All in Good Time
by 1 Jagged Outlaw Queen
Summary: And, here we go again. For anyone unfamiliar with my work or my process, Please read my other two JAG stories before starting this one. You'll be a tad bit lost without a working prior knowledge. For those of you who are familiar, have no fear, Laura returns. We just need to catch up with the unsinkable pixie, her aunt, and her favorite Flyboy uncle. What's next? Come find out.
1. Prologue

**Chapter 1: Prologue**

* * *

**Author's Note:** Here we go again! Is everybody excited? I am. I've had a brief, but much needed rest. I've got a brand new neighbor as of today. She hugged me less than 30 seconds after meeting me. Life is good! But enough about me! Shall we get on with the story?

**Disclaimer:** Guess what? They still aren't mine… I still don't own them. Well, except for Laura. She says to tell you all hello and to ask you to please take note of the date listed immediately below, unless you should be slightly confused. We're backtracking a tiny bit, for just a few minutes. The next chapter will return us to sunny San Diego in the early autumn of the year 2007 where the newlyweds await our return… At least I think it will. I'm pretty sure. Let's find out.

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Monday, January 9, 2006

San Diego Fertility Center

Sarah Mackenzie can't wait to leave. She forces herself to stand still on feet itching to run. For most of the last six months she has contemplated her decision to be here. She's wanted to be here.

No, that's not true. She needs to be here.

A year and ½ ago he said they would do this together. He said that was the important thing - not just that it happened, but that it happened with her. Then, eight months ago, he'd said something else. Something terrible; and she left him behind; running half blind for San Diego's sunny shores. She sought comfort and peace in the salty ocean air, and although the view beyond her back porch was breathtaking, the balm she sought was nonexistent. Pain, anger, and guilt rise like a relentless tide, eroding still more of what's left of her hollow and lonely heart.

She has discussed this at length, on more than one occasion, with Dr. Rebecca Thayer. No matter how slim the odds, she has to try.

An hour ago, when she walked through the clinic door, she thought she wanted to be here. Now she can't wait to leave. No one's done anything wrong; but without discernible reason, every cell in her body yearns to leave this place behind. She smiles politely and forces herself to listen as the nurse hands over paperwork and drones on cheerfully about access to their donor files. She tries hard to focus and nod in all the appropriate places each time the nurse in pink scrubs pauses to make sure she comprehends something important.

Why can't she hand over everything at once? The pamphlets, more talking. The packet of information about the clinic. Still more talking. The services offered, by the clinic… Good God will the woman ever shut up… the services Mac is interested in, access information…

Mac checks her trusty internal chronometer and tells a small fib. "I've really been through this already with the doctor. It's not that hard to understand… And there is somewhere I'm supposed to be in just a few minutes. Can't I just call if I have any questions?"

The nurse in pink smiles with understanding and offers the usual platitudes. At long last Mac sighs with relief and waves goodbye with a promise to call. She forces herself to walk calmly, as opposed to sprinting, for the clinic door.

Sliding in behind the Vette's wheel, she silently berates herself. Just get on a damn plane and go to London! She shakes her head. No, I can't do that. I have too much to do and too little time to do it. Besides, Harm told her he didn't care what it took. The only thing that mattered was that it happened with her. Then Mattie died. Okay, so he acted like an ass! So what! He'd been grieving. He was willing to subject himself to God knows what so she could have a child, then his had died and she couldn't even tolerate a few harsh words from him. Some friend she was. She has no right to go to London expecting him to make good on that deal now. Anyway, she has plans with Laura this coming weekend. It's been a busy week at work and she hasn't seen the girl since Christmas. No, she can't miss her weekend with Laura. She puts the key in the ignition. As the motor turns over she sends up a silent request.

I hope you're doing alright Flyboy. Please be alright.

* * *

Every night for the following week, before going to bed, she carefully reads over all the information she obtained at the clinic. The information doesn't change from one night to the next and she has it memorized by the third night, but still she continues to go through it each night; unable to leave it behind, yet unable to make a definitive choice about a donor, or even if she wants to proceed. She does and she doesn't. Her own ambiguity strikes her as odd; something beyond odd actually. This is one of those things in life where certainty should to be a necessary prerequisite before moving one direction or the other.

It seems, no sooner than she drifts into sleep the bizarre dream she's been having returns each night. With each succession, something new is revealed. The first night, she's alone in a dark void. She sees nothing. She feels nothing, smells nothing. The vast nothingness is painfully familiar. It's her life, she tells herself morosely.

The one and only bright spot in her life these days is Laura. So, at first, when she hears the sound of a small child's running feet echoing back to her from all conceivable directions she naturally assumes it's Laura at play. She searches for the girl in earnest and finds only more of the same nothingness. She is snatched from the dream when her internal alarm rudely reminds her that its time she was awake.

The next night is the same with one minor exception. When she wakes, she realizes that the footsteps she heard, for what seems to be all night, are too even; too regular to be Laura's.

On the third night she finds she has use of her voice. "Who are you? Where are you? Hold still. I'll come and find you, if you'll just be still."

It makes no difference if she wakes during the night. Each time she closes her eyes, she finds herself back there; in that no where place. With each passing dream, her frustration mounts. She wonders if she's having one of those dreams, and if she is, just what the hell is she supposed to do about it? The dreams always provide some clue. There are no clues here. What is she supposed to derive from the echoing sound of a running child's feet? She can't even decide on a direction. No sooner than she is certain the child is somewhere in front of her, the sound shifts and she is forced to change her mind.

Finally, on the fourth night, nowhere becomes somewhere. She's in a hospital; the inner corridors suddenly materializing around her. This realization strikes the instant before her internal alarm sounds at 0430. Signing in frustration, she throws off the blankets and heads for the shower. Well, at least that's something.

She remembers the old fable about the tortoise and the hare. In the shower, she tells herself to relax and go with it. She knows it's no use trying to force it, or fight it. Maybe slow and steady really does when the race. At least she hopes it does. She hopes that if this is one of those dreams; that whoever this child is, he or she is not in a time sensitive situation where seconds count because she already knows that her muddled psyche won't become any clearer by applying pressure. She turns her back to the hot water hoping that the steam and the pressure will do something to minimize the tennis ball sized knot forming between her shoulder blades.

* * *

She has lunch at her desk and is quietly enjoying a roast beef sandwich with just a hint of horseradish sauce when she is surprised by the quiet knock on her office door. Petty Officer Jennifer Coates pokes her head in when granted entry and offers Mac a smile laced heavily with uncertainty.

Her curiosity piqued, Mac stifles a yawn and momentarily forgets her lack of satisfying sleep in recent nights while putting her sandwich down. "Yes, what is it Coates?"

The younger woman speaks barely above a discreet whisper when she says, "Ma'am, Mr. Webb is here to see you."

For a moment she squints; certain she heard incorrectly. "Say that again please."

The Petty Officer nods her head almost imperceptibly. "Yes Ma'am, you heard right."

Mac starts to rise to her feet, and then changes her mind. "Coates… wait… He's not on my schedule is he? No, never mind, I know he's not. That's something I would've noticed straight away and not forgotten. Whatever Mr. Webb wants tell him the answer is no." She returns to her seat and picks up her sandwich again.

"He says, he wants to see you. That's all he would say Ma'am."

The Marine mulls this over momentarily. It's perplexing. She hasn't seen Clayton Webb since that day at Mandalay. It can't possibly be personal, not after all this time. She smiles at the junior officer. "My answer stands, unless he's here for professional reasons. If he is, tell him to make an appointment. When he arrives for said appointment, I will tell him no myself."

Coates gives her a curious frown, but says a dutiful "Aye aye Colonel." She closes the door and does not disturb Mac's lunch again.

* * *

At home that evening, with a pile of take-home work spread over her coffee table and sofa, she unintentionally drifts into a heavy sleep and rejoins the illusive child. The sense of urgency, the sense of frustration that has accompanied all the other dreams is still present, but this time she knows she's dreaming even while it's happening. She makes a conscious effort to relax and go with it; to just let it unfold around her. "Okay, you wanna play hide and seek; bring it kid! I'll find you. Ready or not, here I come." She calls out in a lighthearted singsong voice.

For the first time, she hears laughter. The child's laughter. It's sweet and pure, but it's definitely not Laura. It's still impossible to be certain of gender, but it is something new. It is progress. She wanders from corridor to corridor and room to room in the same dream-world hospital and it's more vivid than ever before. Each time she feels she is getting close to her goal, a moment of disorientation occurs and in that brief moment the child's location seems to shift and change. She stops at the unmanned nurses' station and strains to hear, and to think rationally. The child doesn't seem to be in distress. She senses no panic, or fear and can find no reason for alarm. Still, the child is young. Two, maybe three, at most, but she doubts it. She doesn't know how she knows that either, but she does.

She hears the sound of running feet again and her own laughter fades into a groan. "Geez kid! Don't you ever get tired?" Little feet run harder; faster and she wills herself to stay present as consciousness beckons and the sound of running toddler feet becomes the sound of an insistent knock at her front door.

She sits up suddenly; dazed, confused, and knocking file folders to the floor. More than a little grumpy at the interruption because she finally felt she might be getting somewhere with the dream, she calls out, "Yeah yeah! I'm coming. Don't knock the door off the hinges!" She tosses aside her throw blanket and plays a momentary and clumsy game of hopscotch over the tops of files on her way to the front door. She glances through the peephole and groans audibly..

Hand on her hip, she unlocks the door and opens it wide. "Still have a problem with the word no, I see. Clay, what the hell do you want?"

He stands there, caught somewhere between a smile and a frown, looking just the way she remembers; except… He's a little worse for wear. The faint touch of gray at his temples is more pronounced than it used to be. His eyelids are red rimmed. He's got a heavy 5:00 shadow. Not a good look for him. He's ten pounds thinner; which would look good… If he didn't have the dazed and disoriented look of a newly sober drunk who finds himself supremely unhappy with said sobriety.

He takes an involuntary ½ step back on her front porch in response to her less than warm greeting. "Always a pleasure to see you too, Sarah."

She skips the back-handed pleasantries. "What do you want?" She repeats.

"Invite me in and I'll tell you."

She starts to close the door and finds a highly polished wingtip in her way. "Sarah," He begins quietly. "I need your help."

The quiet admission causes her to study him for a long moment. So long in fact that he eventually raises an eyebrow curiously.

Hoping she won't regret it later, she steps back away from the door and bows slightly with sarcasm; granting him entry. She returns to the sofa slowly picking up file folders as she goes while he acquaints himself with her unfamiliar living room.

"This is a nice little house." He offers; looking around.

"Don't get too comfortable Clay. You aren't staying long." She says, stowing things in her briefcase on the coffee table.

The following silence pulls her undivided attention back to him and she finds him studying her; disappointment clearly visible in his eyes. "I hoped you wouldn't still be angry after all this time."

"I'm only irritated because you woke me up. I haven't slept much lately and I have my own problems to worry about. You said you needed help…"

He runs his fingers through his thick hair slowly. "Ah yeah. I took a leave from the agency a while back. I've only just returned and they've given me an assignment…"

He stops short when Mac starts shaking her head before he's even finished.

She waves her hands in front of her in a slightly defensive manner. "Whatever it is, I don't want to know. I will not get involved. Clay, I will not allow your kind of crazy back into my life… And quite frankly, I can't believe you would even have the nerve to come here… Wait, I take that back. Yes, you would have the nerve!"

"Look Sarah, I'm not asking you out on a date. I know that's done, but I need someone I can trust."

She shakes her head again; harder this time. "Your trusting me is something I'm no longer interested in. Besides, I can't figure out why you would trust me. The last time you did both of us very nearly died Clay. Whatever you need; find someone else."

He lowers himself onto one of the cushions of her sofa and says quietly, "The thing is, there is no one else… No one I can call on." He looks her in the eye and she can tell; it's a hard thing for him to do.

Losing some of her bite, she sits down on the edge of the coffee table in front of him. She reaches out to touch him, but withdraws; thinking better of it. "Clay, I don't care what you say. Tell me there are terrorists roaming the streets of San Diego. No matter what, I'm not getting involved with you; not professionally… And not personally either for that matter… But, are you okay? You look…" She makes her voice as gentle as possible. "You look wrung out… Like my dad use to look on those few mornings when he woke up and accidentally found himself sober."

He winces despite her obvious attempt at being gentle. "That's the problem." He smiles wryly. "I'm sober." For the first time in… a long time."

She nods; not really surprised at her instincts. "How long?"

"Six days. It's rough."

She nods again. "Congratulations. I take it nobody at the agency knows this?" But it's not really meant to be much of a question. It's more of a statement.

He squints curiously and she supplies the rest. "If they did, you wouldn't be going out on assignment. And Clay… You shouldn't. It's hard enough to deal with reality when you're newly sober. Deciding whether to buy whole or skim milk is a difficult choice when you're newly sober. You go off to work right now, in your condition, and one of two things is going to happen. You'll either fall off the wagon or, you'll come back in a body bag. Maybe both. You have to tell someone. I won't work with you again, under any circumstances, but I will help you do that… If you'll let me."

He shakes his head and starts to get up. "I was supposed to have more downtime after the last assignment. That was the plan. Plan got changed." He switches gears; somewhat mystified. "You don't want anything to do with me personally or professionally, but you'll get on a plane and fly to Langley with me to tell my boss I'm sober?"

She nods and repeats, "If you'll let me."

He stares at her incredulously. "Why?"

"It's a debt that I owe. My uncle helped me. Let's just say, it's my turn."

He'd come here prepared for anger, even hostility. This, he hadn't expected in the least, and he has absolutely no idea what to do with it. He glances around awkwardly; looking anywhere but at her and he catches sight of a pamphlet lying on the edge of the coffee table. He picks it up and looks it over; surprised by the hand drawn image of an infant on its cover and its title; Planning Ahead.

She gently removes it from his hand and returns it to the coffee table face down as he stares at her middle. She shakes her head. "No." she answers the question he doesn't ask. "Just wishing."

He nods and stands up suddenly; eager to leave. He shouldn't have come here. What the hell was he thinking anyway? He smiles genuinely, and with just a hint of mischief. "I'd offer to help… If I thought I had a snowball's chance in hell. Good luck Sarah."

Stunned; not at all sure what to say, she silently watches him leave just as unexpectedly as he arrived. She doesn't know it, but she won't see him again for more than a year; and when she does she'll wish she hadn't.

Distracted, more by his sudden appearance than by his abrupt departure and lacking the focus necessary to return to her work, she reminds herself that she can't help someone who isn't ready to be helped. Clay's problems are not her problems; and she shouldn't attempt to make them so.

Locking the front door again, she pushes thoughts of him aside and decides on a long bath with a few drops of lavender oil, hoping to help sooth her nerves. Shortly after getting in, she falls asleep in the tub wondering if she should give the donor list another perusal or just surrender to the inevitable likelihood of remaining childless.

In sleep, she returns once more to the hospital. Although it looks nothing like the hospital where her doctor's office is located, she somehow finds herself in Dr. Thayer's office having yet another conversation. She's tired of discussing the odds. She's tired of discussing the possible side effects of fertility drugs and treatments. Feeling resigned, she allows the conversation to lapse and that's when she hears him again. Him? She questions herself. Yes, him. She's certain of it; although she has no idea why. Those are his tiny little feet tromping through the corridor outside the office. She looks at Dr. Thayer and smiles; mildly aggrieved. "That kid! I can't seem to catch him."

The doctor smiles. "Maybe your timing is off Mac."

The comment puzzles her for more than just one reason. In the first place, she's never been Mac where the doctor is concerned; always Sarah. The woman seems to be more comfortable with her given name than her preferred nickname. She can hear the kid just outside the door. She's certain of it. She finally knows exactly where he is. Standing up quickly, she shakes her head and tells the woman behind the desk, "My timing is rarely ever off." She quick steps across the office and jerks the door open in time to catch her first fleeting glimpse of the child.

Little Osh Gosh overalls, Marine green sneakers and a matching baseball cap slip through, and disappear behind, a slowly closing door at the end of the corridor. She hurries after him. When she reaches the door, she barely glances at a sign posted there. 'Authorized Personnel Only' She tries the door handle and breathes a silent thank you when it turns easily in her hand.

Just inside the door, a child's toy is on the floor. As the door closes behind her, she kneels and picks it up curiously. It's a scaled down model of an intimately familiar bright yellow biplane. Puzzled by this new piece of information she stays still and listens for any sound at all. She hears nothing. She caresses the toy flying contraption for a long moment as if it were a precious gift. When she can tear her eyes away from the small plane, albeit reluctantly, she looks around the large room and finds herself surrounded by medical equipment, freezers, and what she supposes are cryogenic storage chambers that might hold countless embryonic hopes and dreams in stasis.

Oh man, this is no place for a little kid. She thinks ironically. With a new awareness that floods her with warmth she calls out, "Alright my boy, enough is enough. You show yourself right now. No more hide and seek. Game over!"

Inexplicably, she suddenly finds herself on the outside of door and peering in through the small glass window pane once more. This time it's locked. She slaps the door with the palm of her hand repeatedly and realizes that she no longer has that toy plane in the other hand. Where did it go? Did she drop it? She doesn't remember dropping it? Glancing over her shoulder, she yells down the corridor for someone to come and unlock the door. She yells so loud that her throat hurts. No one comes.

When she turns, in heightened frustration and unmistakable maternal fear, to peer through the window pane again, shock gives way to recognition and panic gives way to acceptance in rapid succession as she sees his little face for the first time. He smiles back at her. It's a rarely seen but familiar smile. She sees it from time to time reflected back to her from the mirror. His eyes are equally familiar; a sweetly recognizable shade of blue that instantly soothes her and brings that rarely seen smile to her own lips. "Listen you!" She makes her voice gentle but firm. "Play time's over. I'm tired of chasing you. You come out here right now."

He giggles and shakes his head theatrically. "No!" he says adamantly. "I stay in. You stay out. Not time yet." He disappears from view behind a long work table inside the room; walking quickly with that boneless agility that toddlers always seem to have.

Mac pounds on the door to no avail. She can't hear him running about anymore; his small sneakers aren't slapping against the floor anymore. The last recognizable thing she does hear is the sound of her son happily making airplane noises.

Her hot bath has gone tepid and is rapidly approaching cool by the time she wakes. With his small voice still echoing in her ears, she climbs out of the tub, dons a cotton nightgown that resembles a pinstriped baseball jersey with a double zero on the back, and returns to her living room. Once there, she gathers up all the paperwork and information from the fertility clinic and dumps the lot of it unceremoniously into the kitchen trash can.

Pre-cognitive vision or hopeless longing; she's not sure which. Either way, she decides to wait a little longer. Maybe someday she'll even tell Harm about it.


	2. Just Another Sunday

**Chapter 2: Just Another Sunday **

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**Author's Note:** Head's up! There's a lot going on in this chapter despite the run of the mill title. Also, my apologies. I was gonna post this last night but my/Laura's dog decided to sit on the surge protector where my laptop was plugged in. No kidding! Sat herself right down on the power switch...Lost half the document... Ah, life with a dog!

* * *

Sunday, October 14, 2007

Harmon Rabb hears his front door close. He finishes pounding a nail into place before glancing up, expecting to see his wife come into view around the side of the house.

He's not disappointed when she appears in an emerald green sun dress; its pleated skirt belted at the waist and falling to a point just above her knees. He smiles at the matching open toed sandals and candy apple red nail polish.

"You're a little overdressed for manual labor; Jarhead." He teases as she comes to a stop just shy of the newly added foundation where he's putting up framing for walls.

"Yeah, I know. Mom called. I need to go get her. She's at the grocery store, and the car won't start… Again."

Harm looks down at his sweat stained tee shirt and his blue jeans covered in sawdust. "Okay, give me a minute to change. I'll go with you."

Her dark eyes sparkle flirtatious as she wrinkles her nose; making a mockery of serious contemplation. After an exaggerated pause she says, "Nah, you stay here. I like you this way." She winks at him. "Besides, I'm seriously going to try one more time to talk Mom into having that thing she drives towed into the junkyard. If you go, she'll just talk you into fixing it. At least long enough to get her home anyway. Then, next week, it will die again. I really don't think the old beater can survive too many more resurrections."

"Why won't she just go see Frank? With her budget, he won't put her in anything brand new, but I know he can find her something better than that sputtering bucket of bolts she's driving now." Harm steps between two raised treated lumber posts and jumps lithely down from the elevated foundation. Before stepping away from the nearly five feet drop, that as yet has no stairs, he turns and points at Laura. "You stay put up there sweetheart. You try jumping down from there and we'll be on our way to the emergency room."

Laura rolls her eyes but smiles anyway as she says, "Duh, Uncle Harm."

"Hey, I'm just making sure. You're turning into quite the little daredevil with that new leg brace."

"It's a leg brace Uncle Harm. Not a go-go gadget trampoline!" Standing several feet away from the edge Laura leans forward slightly, attempts standing on tiptoe, but then thinks better of it when her less than cooperative balance issues kick in. She glances out over the side of the foundation at the sand below. "I don't wanna jump down from here." She shakes her head adamantly. "I don't care if I do land on sand. That still might suck; 'specially if I land on one of those big seashells! Ouch!"

Mac giggles quietly at the exchange as Harm steps near enough to reposition her necklace; the clasp meant to be in back having slipped around to the front. Mildly curious, until she realizes of what he's doing, she glances down awkwardly and then straightens her neck; allowing him better access.

You're backwards." He offers quietly with a sexy smile.

"You're kind of handy to have around Mr. Rabb." She whispers. "I hardly need a mirror anymore. You're always squaring something away; necklaces, tags that stick out of place, bra straps, buttons, collars. I'm starting to wonder how I ever got dressed without you."

"That makes two of us." He teases. "There… you can go now." He lightly kisses her forehead and then her lips. She touches his face gently; wiping away a smudge of dirt with affection before turning her attention to her niece.

"Laura, what _are _you wearing?" She asks in a voice laced with both mirth and curiosity.

The little girl glances down at her overalls and squints; trying to figure out why they would draw such a puzzling question. Then she smiles at the battered old canvas nail bag secured snugly around her waist; it's small pockets bulging slightly with a collection of unseen items.

"This is my tool belt!" She nods her head; smiling happily. "Uncle Harm gave it to me. He said I could use it instead of that one over there. She points at the craftsman's leather tool belt lying several feet away from her. He says it weighs more than I do! This is better, even if it doesn't have a place for a hammer!" She scowls but then quickly shrugs off her mild irritation.

"What have you got in the pockets?"

Mac watches and smiles as the girl lifts out and displays items one after the other, carefully returning each one to its proper place before showing off the next; a tape measure, a handful of nails, a collection of screwdrivers, a very small level, and a carpenter's ruler. Next, Laura points to the small hammer lying at her feet.

"That's mine too. I tried to keep it tucked in the tie string around my belly, but Uncle Harm says no. He says it'll only stay there until I forget about it, and then it will fall out on top of my foot. He says that's no fun."

Mac chuckles as she offers her husband a one armed hug. "Laura, something tells me Uncle Harm's dropped a hammer on his foot before."

Harm groans comically. "More than once. Not fun! Not fun at all."

Mac offers Harm a smile. "You want me to pick up a couple of ice packs while I'm at the store. You know, just in case?"

He shakes his head. "Bag of frozen peas wrapped in a dish towel works just fine."

She nods. "Laura, baby, are you coming with me to get Mimi, or are you staying here?"

"I'm staying here with Uncle Harm. He needs me. I'm his prentice now, but I forget what that word means."

"You mean apprentice." Mac enunciates carefully. An apprentice is a student who is learning a craft or a trade."

Laura nods thoughtfully as Mac waves goodbye. "I'll be back shortly." She says, offering Harm another quick kiss before she steps away.

As she rounds the side of the house and her feet find the driveway Harm calls out, "Seriously, Mac nag your mom about a new car, before she gets stranded someplace a whole lot less friendly than the grocery store parking lot, and Laura calls out happily, "Aunt Mac, bring me back some pineapple and coconut popsicles… Please."

Mac chuckles and answers loudly as she slides in behind the wheel of her Jeep, "I've been nagging her, but I'll try again… and… I'll think about it." She teases; fully intending to honor the request.

* * *

Mac turns the Jeep's radio down another decibel as James Blunt poignantly sings 'You're Beautiful.' She gives up the effort not to yawn. Keeping one hand on wheel, she covers her mouth with the back of her free hand and then offers Deanne O' Hara the bag of sunflower kernels in her lap.

Her mother shakes her head. "I should be used to it by now, but I never understood how you or your dad could eat so much and stay so slender."

Mac watches the road and shrugs unperturbed. "Mackenzie Metabolism. Grandpa Virgil was skinny as a twig."

"I seriously think that man had a tapeworm! He ate more than you and your dad combined."

"He had thyroid problems Mom. They weren't diagnosed until after you left."

"You should have yours checked."

The expression that passes over Mac's face is somewhere between a grin and a grimace. "My thyroid is fine Mom."

"Really, because as the third time you've yawned in twenty minutes."

Mac rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "I'm fine! It's Sunday. It's warm, the sun is shining and I think that a cat nap in a hammock in the backyard would be a wonderful thing."

The older woman smiles. "That new husband of yours keeping you awake nights?"

Mac chuckles quietly. "Mom, we make it a point to keep each other awake… Fairly often, but even so, I still sleep better with him than I did without."

Really?" she inquires; sounding doubtful.

Mac nods. "Yeah, really. I'm something of an insomniac and having Harm here sort of eases a lot of the reasons I don't sleep."

Deanne nods thoughtfully. "I still like having the bed to myself."

The air between them hums with its current of unspoken words. Mac nods and wrinkles her nose slightly. Yes, I imagine you do. I on the other hand, don't much care for it. I've had the bed to myself for the last two years. Good thing he showed up when he did. I don't know if I could have made it through another year." Trying to keep the mood from going sour; Mac smiles with a hint of wicked mirth. "The battery operated substitutes will do in a pinch… but they leave a lot to be desired."

It takes a moment for the penny to drop, but when it does Deanne cries out, "Ugh! Sarah!"

She giggles. "Oh come on Mom! You avoid anybody with a Y chromosome like they're carrying the plague. You have for the last 25 years… It's gotta get lonely."

She shrugs. "Not having any bruises to cover up is worth the trade honey."

"Not all men hit… Some of them even keep the manipulation down to a minimal level, but if you never put yourself out there how are you supposed to know that. I know you still find them attractive. You actually smiled at that guy in the grocery store parking lot."

"Who? Him. So what. He was being nice… Moved my groceries from my car to yours. Sort of reminded me of an older version of that guy… What was his name? He served with your dad. The good looking one. The one with the weird first name. I can't remember his last name, but his first was… I don't know something like Bennett."

Mac groans in dismay and mutters more to herself than her mother, "Oh God it's genetic!" then, louder she says, "I take it back Mom. Don't put yourself out there! Your selection maker is broken!"

The woman in the passenger seat raises an eyebrow. "My selection maker?

Swallowing a handful of sunflower kernels, Mac nods emphatically as she keeps one eye on the road in front of her. "That impulse, that internal homing device that helps you choose one man over another. Yours is broken! If your marriage to Joe didn't prove that, what you just said certainly does."

Deanne turns slightly in her seat to face her daughter as best as possible; straining the shoulder strap of her seatbelt. "Why?"

"His name was Beckett… Beckett Jeffries and he… was worse than Joe."

She nods at the name. "That's it." Then she scowls; clearly unable to imagine anyone worse. "That's the last thing I would've expected you to say Sarah. Why?"

For a flicker in time, before returning her eyes to the road, Mac stares at her mother incredulously. "Because Mom… The man was a pedophile!"

Deanne drops her jaw; stunned. After a moment of awkward hesitation she declares, "Sarah, that's a horrible accusation to make! That man was always nice to you."

"The horror doesn't make it any less true." Mac says blandly. "And the fact that he was an unmarried man who would sit alone on the bench at the base playground and watch the kids play should've tipped you off Mom. By the time I was ten I already knew not to get within arm's reach of him."

Several more hushed seconds tick by before the older woman can bring herself to ask, in a voice barely above a whisper, "Who did he hurt?"

"He was always accidentally bumping up against people…" Mac answers with something hard in her voice… "Kid sized people. After you left, he started hanging around the house more. I thought I'd gotten too old for him by then, but one day when I wasn't paying attention, he walked up behind me in the kitchen and stuck his hand up my skirt." Mac shivers in revulsion at the memory.

"Oh God! Sarah… I didn't know…"

"Mom." She starts slowly; gently, and without accusation. "It's not your fault. You weren't there."

"What happened?" She asks, actually managing to sound maternal. "Did you tell somebody? Did you tell your dad?"

Mac laughs bitterly. "Hell no! Dad would've made it my fault. He would've carted me off to the basement of some dingy hospital and had me… sterilized." She announces, as if she's envisioning surgery without anesthetic.

"He would not!"

Another burst of harsh laughter escapes Mac. She snaps off the radio; with the decisive flick of her wrist. For a fleeting moment, she forgets her desire to keep things light between them. "Right! I forgot." She hisses with sarcasm. "The only person Joe ever hurt was you! You bore the entire weight of his anger all on your o…"

She stops short when she realizes that her voice is rising. After a weighted pause, she sucks in very deep breath and grips the steering wheel hard with both hands. "Mom… I said I wasn't going to do this today. I'm sorry." She counts to five slowly."

"Said you weren't going to do what?" her mother asks; sounding small and worried.

Mac takes one hand off the wheel and motions between the two of them; causing her mother to flinch. "This. This old war between you and me. One of us says something to remind the other of Joe and then all those bad feelings come back and I bite your head off… Not that I don't have good reason for it, but it's gonna stop!" She sighs heavily.

She waits several seconds before continuing, when she does, she says quietly, "Whether you think I should've been or not, I was scared of him… Joe terrified me. I've never tried to downplay or diminish what he did to you. I'd really appreciate it if you'd stop doing that to me. Okay? From here on out, can we just agree that he was rotten… To pretty much everybody he knew?"

Mac watches her non-responsive mother nod out of the corner of her eye. "Mom, don't you ever get tired of doing this?"

"I guess I've just gotten use to it Sarah." She sighs sounding defeated. "Your sister's worse. Much worse."

Mac nods and doesn't say anything for another long moment.

"So, you didn't tell anybody." Deanne returns to their original conversation because, as bad as it is, it's safer.

"I told Chris. He took care of it."

"Chris?"

"Christopher Ragel."

Deanne squints as she pulls forth an old memory from the dark recesses of her mind. "That car stealing thug who lived a couple of doors down?"

She finds herself perplexed when Mac grins. "Yeah, that's him."

"Why would you tell him?" Without waiting for an answer she muses, "Wonder what ever happened to him?"

"He died a few years ago." Mac shoots her mother a fleeting look of warning.

"What? What is it? What aren't you telling me?"

Mac fidgets with the pendant at the end of her necklace. "Just that I married him."

Her mother groans. "Oh Sarah, no!"

Mac wrinkles her nose and nods. "Sad but true." She answers matter-of-factly. "That's why I said the broken selection maker was genetic. Didn't last long. Less than a year, but it was long enough for him to cause me all sorts of problems."

Deanne closes her eyes and shakes her head. "You said he died… A few years back? What happened to him?"

Mac shakes her own head. "He wound up on the wrong end of a gun… But that's enough bad news for one day." She takes the turn into the trailer park where her mother lives, and seconds later, she takes another into her mother's driveway. "Let's get your groceries in. I need to get home and offer Harm at least some kind of help today. He's putting up walls for our new bathroom."

Mac gets out of the Jeep and walks around back. She takes two bags from the cargo hold and waits for her mother to join her before she says, "He really wants you to talk to Frank about a new car before you get stranded on some bad road."

As they step up onto the front porch Deanne answers, "I can't afford a new car."

Mac takes a bag of groceries from her so she can unlock her front door. "Mom, you can't afford to keep the one you've got now. What happens when you get stranded, and I'm not available to come get you? It's not safe. Let us help you. Frank won't find you anything fancy but he can get you something better than what you've got now. Something that won't die on you on a lonely road late at night."

"I never go anywhere late at night. I seldom go anywhere after dark."

"Doesn't matter. That myth that bad things only happen to women driving alone after dark is just that… A myth… and you know it… Better than most. Mom, you really need to get your reactions straight. You're all over the place! You overreact about men in general, and yet you're complacent about situations that actually might be dangerous." She yawns, and steps into the trailer when her mother opens the door. On her way to the kitchen, she flips the dial on one of the trailer's window units then shivers at the cold blast of air it emits before she carries the grocery bags over to the small kitchen table. "I worry about you."

Deanne smiles awkwardly. "When you're not busy being mad at me?" she asks lightly. "I must be such a thorn in your side."

"You do have your moments." She watches her mother put a gallon of milk and the refrigerator. "But I'm serious, you need a new car… And you and I really do have to start making more of an effort to get along. If not for ourselves; then for Laura."

"What's Laura got to do with it?" She asks, tossing a bag of corn chips up to the top of the refrigerator.

"Casey called last night. I talked to her for a minute. Then I let Laura have the rest of her phone time. Every time she calls Laura's in a snit for hours after. Casey puts her in a bad mood. I've started to realize she has no idea how to relate to her mother. And that's our fault… All three of us I mean. Casey talks to you the same way Joe use to. You and I are better… But not much. Somebody's got to teach Laura how to deal with difficult situations, relationships, and how to get along. She lives with me now. So, I guess that makes it my responsibility. So, let's try to stop sniping at each other… Especially in from of Laura." Mac takes a packet of spaghetti noodles out of a grocery sack and hands it to her mother.

Taking the pasta; Deanne nods and places it in a kitchen cabinet. "Okay." She says quietly, but I don't know about the car. I can tell you like them, but I'm not comfortable asking these people for help."

Mac rolls her eyes and pats her mother shoulder. "Bye Mom."

Her mother looks confused. "You're leaving?"

Mac stops at the small archway between the kitchen and living room. "First," She offers her mother a smile. "They aren't just 'these people.' They are part of my family, and yes… I'm leaving… Before I get irritated. I'll call you in a couple of days. Let me know when you need to pick up the car, and if you need help paying for the repairs."

* * *

Back in the Jeep, she starts the engine and activates the hands free usage for her cell phone via the button on her steering wheel. As she pulls out of the drive, she waits for the familiar disembodied female voice to prompt a request and then says, "Dial Harm."

She listens to his phone ring through the speaker system in her car. When he picks up on the fourth ring she can hear that flyboy grin in his voice when he asks, "Did you take a wrong turn? You could be halfway to Yuma by now." He exaggerates.

She chuckles. "Put down the hammer Flyboy. Go take a shower, and brush the sawdust off Laura. I'll be there in ten minutes; fifteen tops. We're going out to lunch."

"Okay by me, but why do you need fifteen minutes to get here? Is everything okay?"

"Yep. Everything's fine." She smiles and declares with spunk.

"Really?" He asks incredulously. "No fireworks?"

"Not today… Well… Maybe a few sparklers, but I'm good. I've just need to make a quick stop. I forgot Laura's popsicles, but don't tell her that… Please!"

"Who? Me? Rat you out? Not a chance!"

"Okay! See you soon!" Disconnecting the call, she turns the radio back on and soon finds herself humming along with last year's hit tune Beverly Hills. She pauses to yawn, but decides the cat nap in the sun can wait for another day.


	3. In the Beginning

****Chapter 3: In the Beginning...****

**Author's Note: **It's been a busy week. I missed you guys!

* * *

Tuesday, October 21, 2007

Harm pauses in his work and looks about as if he's missing something.

"What?" Mac smiles. "What do you need?"

"The place is so quiet without her."

His wife reaches out and pats his hand. "She'll be back tomorrow."

"I know, I just miss her, that's all. She's so noisy, but you get use to it. Who's bright idea was it the let her sleep away from home on a weeknight anyway?"

Mac taps the business end of a pencil against the mark she just made on a piece of lumber. "Are you going to cut here, or are you going to let me have the saw? Laura will be fine. Tomorrow is a teacher in-service day and she was eager to see Liam. He's been at his dad's for an entire week. She misses him… And I needed a night off duty."

He glances at her face speculatively. "You do look a little worn out Marine. Here… Watch your fingers."

Mac holds her end of the lumber steady and watches the circular saw Harm is using do its work until it is ¼ way through the job. She then turns her tired eyes to the setting sun out over the water. The working saw's vibrations are transmitted through the wood to her hands and wrists, up her arms into her shoulders. She knows he's finished the task a millisecond before the saw shuts off when she feels its affect on the wood give way. She stays as she is until she feels him try to lift the newly cut lumber to set it aside with other recently cut beams.

"Mac?"

Returning her gaze to his face, she gives him a wan smile and stands up straight. She places the heel of her right hand against the small of her back and presses in hard. "Yeah I'm here, and you're right, I guess. I am worn out. I'm starting to hurt too."

"Hey, we can stop. Rome wasn't built in a day."

She gives him a puzzled look and has to think for a moment before she answers. "Oh no Harm. It's not this. I haven't done anything besides carry a few beams and hold things steady. This is fine. It's not this; it's me. It's been a crazy couple of days at work. The investigation into Petty Officer Brandon's conduct issues starts Thursday. I didn't want to, but it's past time for disciplinary action. I guess I'm just a little depressed about it. Besides that, I know tomorrow I'm going to feel absolutely wretched. I can feel it coming."

He studies her for a moment, and then kneels and unplugs the saw from its extension cord that snakes down the back porch steps. It's plugged into an outlet through an open kitchen window. When he's certain the power tool is safe, he leaves it where it is and gently takes her elbow leading her around the side of the house and to those steps. He sits, pushing the extension cord out of the way, and gently pulling her along with him.

"You feel what coming?"

For a moment, she doesn't say anything; just pivots her head side to side as if it's suddenly ten pounds heavier and is putting strain on her neck. She looks at her hands and realizes that she 's still wearing her rings. "I should've taken these off before coming out here to work. I'll have sawdust imbedded in the setting." She gently fingers her engagement ring and notices that her wedding ring isn't slipping around backwards anymore. "My hands are swollen." She holds them up, as if putting them on display.

He turns them, palms together, and covers them with his own. "They look fine to me." He says softly, not really sure why they're discussing this.

She shakes her head. "When their fine, my wedding ring is just a smidgen too big. It slips around backwards."

"You should've told me. We can have it sized." He offers with a puzzled frown.

"No. It needs to be the size that it is; otherwise I won't be able to wear it half the month. My hands swell... And this month's going to be gruesome. I can tell."

"Ahh." He says; finally catching the threat of her thoughts. "You're hurting; the Endometriosis is flaring up?"

She nods. "Just a bit tonight. Just an intermittent dull ache. Tomorrow will be worse. I skipped the last two months, so this one isn't going to be a picnic. Can we not do anything tomorrow night; not go anywhere? Getting through the workday will be hard enough. I don't think I'm going to be much good for anything by tomorrow night Harm."

"If I understand right, then it gets worse… at… certain times?"

She smiles and scoots a little closer to him on the step. "I really do like you!" She announces as if this is an unknown fact.

"Well…" He drapes an arm around her shoulders; helping her snuggle closer. "I sure hope so. If not, marrying me was kind of a weird thing to do."

She playfully nudges his chest with a shoulder. "I mean it Harm! Anyone else I've ever been with would've run screaming into the ocean…" She points out at the water. "Before he sat here on the back porch step and talked with me about this."

"Yeah, well… I don't feel much like a swim right now." He jokes.

She nudges him again, even though she knows he's not going anywhere. "Yeah. It's worse during my period. Not always horrible, but…"

"But you skipped the last two months; so I'm guessing you figure you're due for a bad one."

"Yeah. Please don't get excited. I don't want you to be disappointed. Doesn't mean what you think it means… Not with me."

"Yeah, I know." He says somberly.

"You know?" she lifts her head off his shoulder and gives him a worried look. "Do I detect a lack of optimism? That's not like you Flyboy. What's wrong?"

"I found your calendar one day last week. Took me a few minutes to understand what I was looking at. Plus, I read all that information you gave me."

"Harm, what are you talking about? What information?"

"Three years ago. The week after the Admiral retired. I came to see you. You had all those pamphlets and brochures and all that information from the doctor's office. You gave me some of it."

"I gave it to you because you asked for it. I didn't think you'd actually read it. I thought you were just being… I don't know… supportive.

This time he nudges her. "I was. But it wasn't a ploy. You're my best friend. I was worried about you. That, and I knew you didn't really feel like talking about it. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, but I wanted to know stuff Mac."

She grins at the simple turn of phrase. "You wanted to know stuff, huh?"

He nods. "I did… And it didn't seem like you were up for a bunch of… delicate questions. At least, not then."

He awkwardly attempts to choose his words and express himself with compassion. "Is it… normal… For you skip two months? That calendar of yours was kind of confusing.

The quiet laughter that escapes her is devoid of humor. "That calendar is confusing because my body is confused." She tries a weak smile. "I don't have any kind of a predictable cycle Harm. Basically, it just happens when it happens. That's a big part of what makes conception so difficult. Not only is my uterus nearly uninhabitable; I don't even ovulate on a normal schedule so, I can't even tell you when the best time to try would be." She wrinkles her nose in mild disgust. "Not that I want to put our lovemaking on some kind of schedule."

He shakes his own head. "Somehow, that sounds… less than appealing, but you mentioned that you had another procedure about six months ago. Mac, is it safe for you to even try? I want to; but not if it is dangerous for you. I don't want to risk hurting you… or worse."

Mac feels the shutter that rolls through his body in response to his own thoughts and she muses silently for a nearly interminable half dozen seconds at the bizarre sensation of being both joyful and heartbroken in the same moment.

The thought that they may be advised not even to attempt pregnancy is nearly unbearable. Yet, hearing him say, without so much as a moment's hesitation, that he would set aside his desire for a child of their own to keep her safe and healthy, is nothing less than precious to her.

She leans back in his arms to make eye contact and can't find the words to express the emotional conundrum she feels within. The patient curiosity she glimpses in his eyes helps to ground her, and reminds her that he's waiting for an answer to his question. Though it takes some effort, she focuses her thoughts and answers him quietly "January 2006 my doctor said it was okay to try, but that was more than 18 months ago. It's probably a good idea to ask first; especially since the procedure last Spring."

"You asked if it was okay? You told me you thought about trying to find a donor. Sounds like you did more than think about it."

She nods hesitantly; hoping he won't be hurt or offended. "I got all the information… I did everything up to deciding on an actual donor. I couldn't go through with it."

He breathes deeply and offers her an awkward smile. "Am I a jerk if I admit I'm glad you couldn't?"

She thinks about it for several long seconds and then surprises him when she adamantly shakes her head. "Not a jerk. Just honest." She whispers.

"What stopped you? The way things were between you and I back then; Mac… You didn't owe me anything. "

She snuggles close again. "We could argue about that statement. I think I owed you plenty, but I'm not up for that conversation just now. And anyway, I told you. It just felt wrong. By then I'd gotten pretty tired of doing things that felt wrong when it came to you and me. Besides…" She touches his face and offers him a genuine smile. "I was having some very… peculiar… dreams at that point. They made me second guess everything; even my decision to consider such an option.

"Peculiar? Peculiar how? Peculiar as in walking into class for the final exam naked? Or peculiar as in pre-cognitive vision that defies logic?"

She can't help but laugh at his imagination and the imagery it provides. "That may be the weirdest part of all Harm. I'm not sure which. The dreams may have been nothing more than fruitless longing - a frightening and beautiful glimpse at what we'll never have. That's my fear. But they may have been something more. I can't tell with any real certainty. But they were powerful enough - enough to persuade me not to go through with insemination. Trouble is, the harder I search for the answer to your question the more elusive it becomes.

He stands up and pulls her to her feet along with him. "Come inside. I'll make you a lasagna for dinner and you can tell me about these elusive dreams."


	4. The Promise Revisited

****Chapter 4: The Promise Revisited****

**Author's Note: **I'm up very late with a sick doggie. I'm also very tired. If this chapter needs work, I'll fix it, promise.

* * *

Tuesday, October 21, 2007

On the living room sofa, Mac drifts in and out of a light consciousness. Not quite awake, yet not quite asleep either. She listens to the old familiar sounds of Harm busy in the kitchen. A metal spoon clings against the side of a glass bowl. Cabinet doors open, the refrigerator closes, the can opener emits its metallic hum, and there's the faint bubbling sound of boiling water accompanied by the heady aroma of pasta in the air. Mac settles a little deeper into the cushions; content with this peaceful moment despite the nagging dull ache in the small of her back.

While she listens to Harm moving about, only a few feet away in the small cottage, the late evening sun shines warmly through the window; painting abstract patterns on the insides of her closed eyelids. She hovers in that uncharted space between dreams and reality vaguely aware that something is amiss. The refrigerator door opens twice more, and then the freezer and he mutters to himself quietly. He's looking for something; something he's missing. An ingredient? She wonders.

Fragments of their earlier conversation mix and mingle with her awareness of him. She told him about her dreams; about searching an abandoned hospital while chasing after their son – the playful, happy, toddler who wasn't yet ready to be found. He was not ready to give up his game of hide and seek. His happy, yet adamant little upturned face shimmers just beyond her visual range, overlapping with the image of Harm's eager face as he had listened intently while she talked. She did her best to describe dreams that were, at times, confusing with what she felt were highly inadequate words to communicate the sheer magnitude of all that she saw and experienced.

Harm had hung on every word. Gone are the days when he might've questioned or doubted Mac and her mystifying dreams. He knows she still isn't comfortable with, and that she often doubts what she sees, or at least her ability to interpret it correctly. He, on the other hand, has benefited from this ability of hers too many times to discredit it. For him, believing is more than easy; it's natural. He couldn't help but smile at her obvious frustration over having spent every night for at least a week chasing their happy but uncooperative toddler through her dreams.

It's that same smile she sees now; overlapping in her mind's eye with the smile on the little boy's face, at least until she senses her husband's nearness a mere second before she feels his light kiss on her forehead.

Opening her eyes, she catches Harm by the hand as he turns to step away; while reaching for his car keys on a nearby end table with his free hand. Pushing herself up on one elbow she inhales deeply; dispelling the ether of light sleep. "Where are you going?" she grimaces mildly when her back loses contact with the warm heating pad beneath her body.

"Sorry, thought you were sleeping soundly. Store. We don't have any Italian sausage. Be right back."

"No, I was sort of hovering in that nowhere space between sleep and awake. Do we have any ground beef? I think we do."

He nods while she snakes one bare foot from beneath the quilted throw covering her and places it on the floor. "But no sausage." he says.

She shrugs while she covers her mouth and yawns discreetly. "Leave it out. It's not really my favorite anyway. I like the beef better."

Harm raises a curious eyebrow as he lowers himself onto the narrow vacant spot on the sofa where her left leg had rested before. "You're kidding me! There's a meat you don't like?"

She shrugs again. "It's okay. I'll eat it if it's in front of me, but it's not my favorite. It has a funny aftertaste. It tastes like spaghetti sauce; even when it's not in spaghetti sauce." With a smile, she adds a final declaration in a plucky tone that reminds him of Laura, and he half expects to see her bob her chin; mimicking the little girl's customary emphatic certainty as she says, "It's a weird food."

He shakes his head and gently brushes a lock of hair away from her face. "Mac, I've been making lasagna for you for eleven years with Italian sausage in it. Why didn't you tell me that you don't like it?"

"I told you." She almost whines and rolls her eyes. "It's okay. You're one of the few people who actually cooks for me. I don't want you to stop. I save my food complaints for the really nasty stuff…"

"Like meatless meatloaf." They say; laughing in unison.

Becoming aware of her body and its nearness, he flashes his customary smile. "Still, you could have told me. I'd prefer to make it without the sausage anyway. No matter how careful I am dividing the pan in half between vegetarian and Ninja Girl style, some of it always finds its way over to my side."

She picks her foot up off the floor and slides her leg around his hip. "So, you'll still make lasagna for me… with the ground beef on my side?"

Smiling, he leans in, bracing himself on his elbows and gently tangling the fingers of one hand in her hair. "Well, that's better than sausage." He whispers. "I'd forgo the tomato sauce if I could talk you into letting me put spinach and carrots in it instead."

A millisecond before their lips meet in what would be a tender kiss, she turns away slightly; pressing her head back into the pillows that are resting against the arm of the sofa. With her eyes shining, she wrinkles her nose and shrugs faintly; the simple motion creating pleasant friction between the two of them. "That doesn't sound awful. 'Specially if you put some chicken on my side. That might be really good! There's a frozen one like that at the store. Bet yours would be better!" she offers with a sweet smile.

"Yeah yeah, God forbid you should eat something healthy without some variety of dead animal in it…" He pauses to study her as if he's waiting for something. "Are you gonna kiss me or not?"

"Maybe." She teases quietly. "Will you make me a cup of tea if I do?"

Harm eases back a bit and squints down at her. "First, lasagna without sausage, and now tea, instead of your usual high octane coffee? Okay lady, who are you and what have you done with my wife?"

She chuckles quietly and the leg around his hip cinches just a little tighter as she tries to bring him closer once again. "It's me… I promise." She whispers seductively. "I'm supposed to cut back on the caffeine when the Endometriosis flares up. Doctor says it makes it worse. Actually, she wants me to give up the coffee altogether. I actually tried once about six months ago… It's not gonna happen. Three days without coffee, and I made the Bride of Frankenstein, Medusa, and the Wicked Witch of the West all three look like June Cleaver by comparison. On the third afternoon my XO brought a cup of coffee into my office and informed me, 'With respect; it's this, or retire. You're scaring people Colonel!"

Harm chuckles softly as he focuses his attention on a spot just south of her right ear. "And you didn't hand him his discharge papers?" He asks, gently caressing the spot that has so much of his attention with his lips.

"Um um. He's not you, but we work well together. I think I make him a little nervous sometimes but he'll step in and keep me in line when he thinks it's important."

"The man should be entitled to combat pay." Harm teases before he thinks twice about it.

Only mildly annoyed, and laughing; she pushes him away. "Get off me Squid!"

Harm teeters on the edge of the sofa; barely managing to stay upright. "Hey, you started it!"

She nods and grins playfully as she carefully swings her right leg over his head before rising to her own feet. "And now I'm ending it." She says quietly; effectively demonstrating that she is all-powerful.

Before taking up a new post on one of the stools at the bar that divides their kitchen from their living room, she kneels at one end of the sofa and unplugs the heating pad from an electrical outlet and carries it with her.

While she chooses another outlet to accommodate the heating pad, she watches Harm return tomato sauce to the refrigerator; trading it for chicken, spinach and carrots. He, in turn, watches her re-position the bar stool when she discovers the cord on her heating pad is not long enough to reach the stool's customary position comfortably.

Holding up an index finger to indicate that she should wait a moment, he leaves the food on the counter and crosses the small living room at a trot. He disappears into the bathroom and a moment later returns with a small plastic packet that he tears open with his teeth. She raises a curious eyebrow and he draws a circle in the air with one finger pointed at the floor. "Stand up Marine. Turn around and unbutton your blouse."

The curious eyebrow arches a fraction of an inch higher but after minimal hesitation she complies wordlessly. When her back is to him and the dark chocolate colored blouse is completely undone, he lifts the hem and carefully places a large thermal heat wrap against the small of her back. Smoothing it flat, he slowly works his hands around to her hips and she leans into him affectionately.

"Harm, what have you stuck to my back? I hope it's not one of those Icy Hot patches. I don't smell one of those but, whatever that medicated stuff is they use in their patches, it makes my skin peel."

He glances down at her upturned face and steals the kiss he didn't get earlier before answering, "No smelly meds that eat skin. These have some sort of small stone imbedded in the wrap that gradually warms via your own body heat then radiates it back to you. With a couple of punch outs behind me, I need one sometimes. And I don't like smelling like an arthritic old man. It's a little big for you, but you can sleep in it. You won't have to worry carrying a heating pad with you everywhere, about plugging in to an electrical outlet, or about it shorting out, getting too hot; maybe burning you. Give it twenty minutes, if it doesn't get hot enough for you, I'll get one of Mom's rice pillows and pop it in the microwave."

His hands come to rest low on her abdomen. He is so still that for a moment she incorrectly assumes that he is enjoying the view still partially obscured by her unbuttoned blouse. When his hands don't begin to wander and his breathing doesn't alter slightly she guesses again; this time her own thoughts finding the right path.

Not for the first time, she cautions gently. "I don't know for sure that it was that kind of dream Harm. Even if it was, the details don't always line up perfectly with reality. We should talk to the doctor. I don't know that I will carry him. It's unlikely. You already know that; we both do. I can't even guarantee that he'll be a boy, or that he'll look even remotely like I picture him. Who's to say that's not just my subconscious conjuring up what I want to see."

She feels his undeterred shrug.

"The details don't matter; not really. I don't really care how he gets here, what he looks like or even if he's a girl. All that matters is that he… or she… will be ours."

Mac turns in his arms and holds him close for a long moment before he says quietly, "Call the doctor, make an appointment, let me know. I'll be there no matter when. It would be easiest if you can schedule the appointment before I have to report for duty, but if not I'll make it work. We'll get started. I know we are a few years later than we originally planned…" He gently tips her chin upward and offers her a sweet kiss before he says in a hushed voice filled with nostalgia, "But I've got a promise to keep."

He's slow to leave her embrace as that conversation from so many years ago replays in both their minds.

_"__Don't make a promise you can't keep Flyboy."_

_"I haven't yet."_

She can still remember the feel of his warm handshake; his larger hand completely engulfing hers. He still remembers the quiet hope in her eyes.

When they finally do part, he steps back into the kitchen and she returns to her bar stool; content to watch him work. As he begins layering the bottom of a dish with fresh pasta he smiles and winks at her across the bar.

Knowing that she's not feeling well, and nothing will come of it, he enjoys teasing her anyway. "If you want to eat this before midnight you better button up Marine."


	5. Marking Time

**Chapter 5: Marking Time**

* * *

Monday, October 27, 2007

Butterflies flutter in her stomach and Mac marvels at how some things never change. Almost 30 years have passed since the very first time she entered one of these rooms.

But, she was a frightened child then. She's well into adulthood and she's a Marine now too. Yet she still has to suppress the nervous urge to count the ticks of the second hand on the clock inside in her head until the doctor arrives.

Counting the ticks of the second hand was a coping mechanism she employed routinely as child. Usually when hiding in the closet. But it worked the first time she was waiting on a doctor too.

She used to play a little game with herself. How many seconds until … some thing happened. How many seconds until Dad yelled? How many seconds until the door slammed, or he cursed, or he hit Mom, or he cried? How many seconds until he broke a window? How many seconds were there between bad things? Yeah, most people would think it macabre, but it comforted her. It gave her something other than the bad things to focus on. She couldn't think too much about the bad things if she concentrated really hard on counting the seconds in between.

These rooms; they're all the same. Sure the paint on the walls may be a different color, or the tile on the floor, but basically they're the same. They're all small, cramped, and utilitarian in nature… And they all smell the same too; like soap, disinfectant, and flop sweat. She looks at one of the medical diagrams stuck to the wall with poster gum. An uncomfortable smile almost lifts the corners of her mouth. The butterflies' wings flutter a little less aggressively.

The thin white paper that covers the exam table crinkles beneath Mac as she perches on the edge of the table, crosses her bare feet at the ankles, and nervously swings them back and forth. She idly picks at the hem of her thin hospital gown and tries not to count as she watches Harm take in the small room. He paces slowly, glancing about for something to occupy his mind while they wait for her doctor to join them. He glances at one of the posters on the wall; the one that almost made her smile. It's the sort of thing you'd find in a high school Biology class room. On it, the female reproductive system is clearly represented and its various parts adequately labeled in bold black print. Harm shakes his head as if puzzled by the poster.

Glancing her way and detecting apprehension simply by observing her posture, he grins and steps closer to her. He points at the poster. "Why do they have to hang these things in here? Don't they understand that seeing pictures of your insides while you sit here waiting to be examined isn't exactly soothing?"

She smiles and offers him a shrug; somehow amused by their differences in opinion, and that oddly helps her relax. "It might be comforting for some people." She offers patiently.

"What people? Anybody beyond freshman Biology has seen that poster… Or one very similar to it."

"Well… What if you haven't made it to freshmen Biology yet? I realize this might stretch your imagination to its limits Flyboy, but what if you're a barely eleven year old girl. What if you're scared you might be pregnant and too embarrassed to ask questions because you can't figure out whether or not you did something really bad? Your idiot drunken father is uncomfortable and embarrassed when your mother tells him that she bought you a training bra yesterday and he has some kind of thermal meltdown because last week he saw you kiss a boy on the cheek. He screams loud enough for every neighbor on the block to hear."

'She's already kissing boys, now she needs a bra, next thing you know she'll be god damn pregnant!'

"So, you wonder, what's the big deal about kissing a boy on the cheek? He fixed your bicycle tire so that your dad wouldn't know you ran over a nail. You didn't do it on purpose. And you hate the stupid bra. Nobody else your age needs one. None of your girlfriends have them, and what's Dad so mad about anyway? Maybe you're a freak. Maybe there's something really wrong with you. Maybe that's why your body is changing. Maybe that's why he's mad. You didn't want to change. You can't help it. It just happened. The only thing you really know for sure is that you don't want to be pregnant. So, you ditch school, sneak onto the big bus you're not allowed to ride without a parent. It's easy. You get on behind a lady with a bunch of kids; knowing that the driver will most likely assume you belong to her. You get off at the right stop, and walk two blocks to the free clinic. You tell with grumpy-faced nurse behind the frosted glass window that you need to see a doctor about something private. She shakes her head and mumbles under her breath but she puts you in a room like this one to wait. You're all by yourself in an exam room with a poster like that except, in that one, there's a tiny little baby upside down in the middle of the poster, so you start to think maybe it's okay to talk about that sort of thing here. You study the poster and lift your tee shirt to make sure your belly doesn't look swollen like that just because you kissed a boy and got a bra. You count the seconds that go by until the doctor shows up and by the time he does you've decided there has to be more to it than training bras and friendly kisses. You feel better for a little while, but then the dumb doctor comes in and he doesn't want to talk you either because you're just a little girl and little girl's shouldn't concern themselves with such things. And where's your mother anyway? Oh well, at least you saw the poster. You sneak back on the bus, and count the seconds until you get back to school, hoping maybe things will be normal by the time you get back there."

For a silent moment Harm is as still as a glass water. There are so many things wrong with the story she just told he doesn't even know where to start. He just stares at her; at least until he realizes that he's just staring at her. Then, not wanting to make her anymore uncomfortable than he knows she already is, he quick steps to her side and drops a protective arm around her shoulders.

Trying for levity, he teases. "That's not how it works Jarhead." He instantly regrets the next words out of his mouth. "God Mac! No wonder your body can't figure out how to be pregnant."

His brain starts screaming for him to shut up before he's even through speaking. Why in Hell did he say that? That's not funny! For one horrible second his mind flashes back to the argument they had two years ago.

Mac squints harshly at him, as silent as a stone, while he stammers idiotically; trying to get his tongue to form an apology, but before he can manage it she unexpectedly bursts out laughing. She throws her arms around him and buries her face in the front of his shirt and laughs so hard her body rocks gently against his.

He's not sure why she's laughing. It wasn't funny, and he's sure she knows that. Maybe she's laughing because she's just realized she's married to a moron. But at least she's laughing. He stands still and holds her close.

She's still laughing and several seconds later when a statuesque woman with short spiky blond hair, dark blue scrubs, and a white lab coat knocks quietly and enters the room. She glances at Mac and instantly finds her laughter contagious. The doctor's emerald eyes sparkle merrily despite her lack of context for the humor.

"Sarah…"

Mac waves apologetically; trying without much success to stifle her laughter.

"Well, this is a welcome change. It's nice to have you here with a smile on your face."

She then offers her attention and a firm handshake to Harm. "I'm Dr. Rebecca Thayer. You must be Harm?" She points good-naturedly as Mac's laughter finally begins to dry up. "I assume you're responsible for this?"

Harm flashes his best smile and admits. "I am… But it's not the response I should've gotten."

Mac touches his face tenderly. "Yes it is. You weren't trying to be mean." She smiles at the doctor with unmistakable pride in her eyes. "Yes Rebecca, this is Harm. He was just trying to lighten the mood in here. His mouth got away from him, but it worked out better than he thought it would."


	6. Laura Educates an Aging Flyboy

****Chapter 6: Laura Educates an Aging Flyboy****

**Author's Note: **I did not sit down at my writing desk intending for the previous chapter to take the unpleasant path it took. Since it did, I feel like we all need a cleansing breath before returning to the seriousness of the doctor's office… And since Byrthelm writes of crying in his beer over missing Laura; I feel obligated to check in on the affectionately dubbed unsinkable pixie. Be patient. She won't make her grand appearance immediately. I've been racking my brain for weeks now trying to think of a plausible way to invite some old friends back into the story and, by George, I think I finally got it! Get ready to laugh!

I'm also, taking a poll… Trish's gallery needs a name! I'd like it to be something catchy but classy; memorable but dignified. Supply the one I like best and you'll get due credit for your creativity.

* * *

Monday, October 27, 2007

Elizabeth Hawkes sits at a small table on the sidewalk outside the Muir Woods Coffee House and soaks up the afternoon's autumn sunlight while she sips a dirty chai latte. When the sun's position shifts slightly and its brighter rays are obscured by an awning overhead, she moves her sunglasses from her face to the top of her head and smiles at her companion. "This sure beats Germany. Might be hard to go back."

He returns her smile with one of his own. "How long are you here?"

She shrugs. "Hard to say. I requested three weeks. I might need longer."

"This aunt; the one who's sick… She raise you or something?"

"Or something."

He nods amiably and flashes his rakish smile before raising an eyebrow. "And what am I doing here?" He lets unspoken words hang heavy in the air between them.

She leans forward and takes a whiff of the brew in his coffee cup which is resting half full in the center of the small table. The smile she flashes is more evasive than coy; but somehow evasive isn't quite the right word either; even it lacks something. "Enjoying a cup of dark roast?" She tries.

His smile shifts into a bemused smirk.

"Watching half-naked college girls go by on the sidewalk?" She tries again.

He half rises and turns his seat to face the street then settles again. He extends his legs their full length and crosses his ankles; making himself comfortable to do just what she accuses him of for two beats before he whispers in a serious tone, "Not that oggling half-naked college girls isn't tops in entertainment, but don't play dumb Elizabeth. It doesn't suit you."

"Okay." She acquiesces; shifting her tone to match his own brand of bold sincerity. "Truth is, I heard you were around. I need a distraction. So I called."

He nods; finally satisfied with her answer. "A distraction from what?"

"It's not fun watching somebody you love die slowly Keeter. I know it was just supposed to be a weekend thing. Maybe I've gone a little crazy… but I need some company; okay?"

Without turning his gaze back to her, he's extends his arm, palm up, across the table between them and waits for her to place her hand in his. When she does, he gives it an easy squeeze and runs the pad of his thumb over her knuckles. "She's more than just sick then?"

In his peripheral vision he more senses than sees the pain that accompanies her silent nod. So, with his free hand he reaches for his coffee cup, drains it, puts it back in the center of the table, and then tucks a $10.00 bill from his pants pocket under the wide round saucer that is as big as a dessert plate. He rises to his feet, tugging her along with him. "So, let's go take a walk." He nods once toward the street; knowing it's time to change the subject.

She pauses only long enough to shoulder the tote bag she brought along and cocks her head to one side; studying him briefly. "You don't mind?"

"Mind what, being a distraction? Nah, I'm good at that!" He grins with his trademark confidence.

Skates throws back her head and laughs openly. "Yes you are!" She declares quietly after a beat; easily falling into step with him.

They walk hand in hand for more than half an hour taking in the sights of La Jolla. Stopping here and there to point at this or that along their way. With no clear destination in mind they wander through the art district aimlessly. They window shop, or more accurately, she window shops and he revels in the joys of being stateside with an attractive woman who wants his company and is mature and honest enough to say so.

Sidewalk sundries, the smell of food and suntan lotion in the air, and the sight of her watching street performers demonstrating a Celtic dance of some sort or other, leave him feeling pretty good. Germany sucks, he thinks. This is better!

She sips from a bottle of water and raises an eyebrow. "What are you grinning at?"

"You." He answers plainly before sidestepping a middle aged woman who's too busy fussing at her yapping fuzz ball of lap dog in a bright orange sweater to watch where she's going. He snickers quietly to himself, shaking his head until the woman is out of hearing range.

"Be nice." Skates admonishes lightly.

"I'm nice. It's 65° out here. She's got that little ankle biter all gussied up like he's going on an arctic expedition! That's why dogs bite people!"

She giggles quietly in spite of herself. "I have to agree with you there. I'm not much for dressing a dog up like a show pony."

They continue on their way and after a time she asks, "So, what are you doing here?"

"You called me." He teases. After a beat he shrugs and answers more honestly. "I got PCS'ed."

"Thought you were stuck in Germany for the foreseeable future. Seemed like you didn't want to say too much about it the last time we talked"

"Was stuck. Didn't want to talk about it. Can't talk about it. Still don't want to."

She smells a story but doesn't want to push too hard. Lightly she asks, "So, how did you get unstuck?"

"I've got no solid proof; but scuttlebutt says a certain Marine Colonel we both know had something to do with it. Word is, she chewed on somebody's six pretty viciously. Maybe threatened to be a one woman execution squad."

Hawkes stops walking for a moment and gives him a funny look. "Who's six, and about what?"

Keeter shrugs, almost as if he's bored but he's really not, and she knows it. "Some clown who works for the State Department."

Skates groans. "You really can't talk about it."

He shakes his head as they move down the sidewalk in front of the display window of a local art gallery. "Still don't want to." He repeats; vaguely aware of a woman and a small girl setting up a display.

"Okay." She says agreeably as they step passed. "Let's go into one of the restaurants on the corner." She points up ahead. I need to find a lady's…" She stops when he unexpectedly does. "What? What's the matter?"

A frown of mild confusion appears and vanishes from his face in the time it takes to blink. He stands still for a long moment; completely still. For a flicker in time he's a street performing human statute. She moves to stand in front of him.

"Keeter?"

He gives his head a small shake and opens his mouth to speak, then closes it; giving himself the appearance of someone trying to clear fluid trapped in his ears. Finally, a tentative smile teases the corners of his mouth and he backs up; tugging her along with him.

He turns his head and peers in through the gallery window at the familiar small girl. Laura O'Hara stares back at him with her own momentary expression of mild confusion that quickly becomes a wide smile.

He waves at her and she waves back; bouncing on the balls of her feet with excitement. The little girl's hair is held back away from her face by a hot pink bandanna and she uses the hand that isn't holding a feather duster to tug at the pocket of the lightweight summer jacket worn by the woman with her back to the window as she positions a covered easel. Trish Burnett turns, glancing first down at the child, and then out through the window when Laura points happily.

The stylishly dressed woman smiles warmly and beckons them inside, then she changes her mind briefly and signals for them to stay where they are. She holds up a hand, signaling wait and removes the drop cloth that covers a professionally mounted, and utterly captivating black and white photo of the desert sky at sunset. She re-positions the easel; looking for the best angle and glances over her shoulder at the couple outside until Keeter catches on; realizing what she wants.

Using slight hand signals to direct her, he motions this way and that for a few seconds and she complies until he flashes his grin and gives her the thumbs up sign. He pauses long enough to really look at the photo and notices a small but bold cue card in the bottom left corner that announces a coming exhibit;' Rendezvous at the Mesa' by Chloe Madison.

Trish steps to the right inside the display window and removes another drop cloth from another display atop a long table. A series of both color and black and white photos depict both desert scenes, and candid shots of familiar faces. In the center of it all is a closeup of two hands joined; matching wedding bands clearly on display.

Keeter stretches his eyes wide and gives her half a nod of approval. Laura beckons for his attention and points out one photograph in particular. In the shot, the girl was held tightly in Skates' arms as she gazed up at him; the expressions on their faces mirror images.. Both Laura and Keeter were eyeing one another; a curious expression caught somewhere between a grimace and a smile shared between them.

Keeter turns his attention to Skates momentarily. "Well, that explains the photo release request I got via e-mail a few weeks ago explaining that no personal images would be offered for sale. The kid's good. Do you remember her taking that picture?"

Skates shakes her head. "No, photos with people's faces visible in them will only be used as crowd pleasers or bait. I got the same release, and no, I don't remember posing for it, but I've seen it. It's part of the small collection Mac sent me a few weeks ago."

Trish inclines her head slightly backwards and beckons them inside once more.

Keeter grins again and nods. He and Skates walk back to, and step inside the entryway of the upscale gallery where he leans in and whispers with as much discretion as a guy like Jack Keeter can manage, "I've never been in here. The place smells like a fancy museum… Floor polish, wood oil, potpourri, and do I smell coffee?"

She chuckles in mild exasperation. "You just had coffee!"

Trish approaches them laughing merrily with Laura at her side. She hugs them both and swats at his shoulder with maternal affection. "There's coffee in my office. You can't have any on the gallery floor. I've seen the messes you're capable of making." Just to annoy him, she smiles pleasantly and adds, "Elizabeth you may have coffee anywhere you like."

Skates lifts a shoulder and flashes him a look of mild defiance as if to say, "So there!"

He feigns disappointment. "Boy, you spill model airplane glue on the living room rug one time… 20 years ago… And she never forgets." His bright eyes dancing cheerfully, he stoops and kisses the woman's cheek in apology for his crimes.

"It was model airplane glue… and mustard. I still haven't figured out what you were doing with both at the same time." She clarifies, holding him responsible for both. "Ruined a very expensive rug."

"Would it help, or make things worse, if I told you there was a girl involved?"

Trish rolls her eyes. "Of course there was a girl involved." She says drolly. "You were breathing; weren't you?"

Not bothering to feign shame - she wouldn't buy it anyway - he grins proudly and scoops Laura up. "Kid, don't ever spill mustard… Or airplane glue… Or shoe polish… Or anything else that will leave the stain on this lady's floor. You'll never live it down."

"Laura doesn't make your kind of messes. On the rare occasion that she does make a mess, she admits it and apologizes." In a voice that tells him she is all-knowing she adds, "She doesn't try to blame it on her best friend."

"Now that's the part I haven't figured out yet! How do you know he didn't make the mess? He's certainly made his fair share."

"I know he took the fall for you. I know because anytime I had ever mentioned it since then, he simply apologizes. If Harm had actually done it himself, he would've started asking me years ago; 'Mom, are you ever going to let that go?' Not once has he ever complained about my nagging him over that. He did plenty, and he'll do plenty more before I'm old and dead…" She smiles. "But that one's entirely on you darling."

Keeter shrugs happily as he complies when she motions for them to follow. She leads them across the main floor, which is sparsely populated with early afternoon gallery goers, and then down a short corridor to a smaller viewing area, where she's preparing Chloe Madison's exhibit.

The ivory colored walls of the secondary room are banked with panoramic desert shots that steal the breath and stir the soul. Small green dots are discreetly noticeable beside a few of them. No people are featured in these photographs, although some contain images of wildlife or sparse desert flora.

Keeter walks slowly skirting the walls of the long wide room, while toting a reverently silence Laura on his hip. He wonders if she's been told to be quiet while in here, or if she's moved beyond words by the quiet beauty or the awesome power featured in the images that surround them.

Trish is busy in the center of the room, re-positioning easels and doing other such things. Hawkes doesn't make a sound either as she walks beside him; except for the occasional sharp intake of breath when she sees something that surprises or pleases her.

Keeter has never really cared much for art but somehow he finds himself drawn outward as imagery calls forth memory. How does a spunky nineteen year old girl, who dresses with a flair for the audacious, understand that a helicopter can be, not only noisy and powerful; but also beautiful, even graceful. The bigger question is exactly how did she capture that on film? He remembers, all too clearly, that camera shutters were clicking all weekend in the background. Always as unobtrusively as possible but also frequently in rapid fire mode. He also can recall thinking that she didn't have time to see much, let alone focus on anything, as rapidly as her cameras had clicked and flashed. He realizes now how wrong that assumption was. She saw quite a lot, and what she saw was beautiful.

He pauses before a shot of the entrance to the cave at the top of Red Rock Mesa. He was there. He was in that cave and, at the time, it didn't seem like any big deal. Sure, it was one odd place to get ready for a wedding. Certainly the oddest he's ever been in. Yet somehow, the black and white photograph communicates mystery. Adventure beckons to the ten year old boy he used to be and he wants to go inside and explore.

Skates breathes audibly beside him and he glances at her face. For a flutter in time she looks as if she might cry. He seeks out the image responsible for this and grins. "Hey!" He whispers with hushed excitement. "It's the wedding crashers!"

She nods mutely and smiles at the image of two hawks. With their wings unfurled and stretched wide, one dives; the other ascending in a twilight sky.

Looking up from her duties, Trish quietly declares, "That's one of my favorites."

Keeter moves to the center of the room and finds a wide aisle cordoned off on either side by delicately braided and tasseled rope. Here, carefully placed easels that support photographs containing portraits of wedding guests enforce a one way path to the back wall of the room.

Sturgis' girlfriend, Verese was captured on a high note. Her sensual mouth opened in sweet song. There's also the Admiral and his amiable scowl. There are several photos of blonde children whose faces tell of their kinship; each of them a Roberts through and through. There's a Texas judge in his cowboy boots and string tie. He's arm in arm with his pretty wife; the redheaded baker. She looks like a baker too; pleasantly round in the middle from enjoying too many of her own confections. Harriett places a rose in Bud's lapel; a sweet tender expression visible in her eyes. Young Laura whispers a secret in Jennifer Coates' ear while, in another shot, her namesake wails; pink-faced and unhappy. There's a fat brown lizard plainly visible in the icing on top of her piece of wedding cake. Frank Burnett touches his wife's face with abiding devotion. He and Skates glide lightly across the dance floor. She was laughing at him. He can't remember why, but the photo pleases him; makes him happy.

The bride and groom are conspicuously absent in all of these photos and it strikes him as odd; yet somehow intentional. He understands why when he finally turns his gaze to the nearly life size image displayed, in its place of honor, alone on the back wall.

They stand tall, almost regal, their bodies turned toward the camera but their eyes only for each other. They embrace with quiet passion, a sweet kiss but a single breath away, at the westward facing edge of Red Rock Mesa. The glorious sunset behind them provides a flawless sky for the hawks to play in, while it causes his gold wings and her delicate dress to shimmer with a vibrant patina of soft golden light.

Laura sighs happily in his arms and offers him an affectionate hug that he hadn't quite expected. He pats her back and whispers, "The end." because they've reached the end of the exhibit. His only options are to leave the room through a nearby door, or turn and walk back through. The little girl wrinkles her nose with its light dusting of freckles and gives him a look that he's seen before. It is the one that lets him know that she's questioning his intelligence.

She glances at the photo of her aunt and uncle and then playfully thumps Keeter on the shoulder with mild exasperation. "It's not the end!" She lectures sweetly and rolls her eyes. It's the beginning. Don't you know nothin'?" The wedding only comes at the end in dumb fairy tales where all the girls are mistreated and all the boys are stupid!"

Jack Keeter thinks about what little he remembers of fairy tales and throws back his head and laughs; a big booming laugh that turns a few heads, and causes people in the other room to become even more quiet than they were before.

"Laura, I think you may be right." He says, charmed by her view of things.

"Course I'm right!" She bobs her chin with her signature emphatic nod. "I've read lots of fairy tales. And they're all dumb!" She shakes her head as if mystified. Every one of them. As soon as it gets good, the story ends… That sucks! Don't you wanna know what happened after the wedding? I always do!"

Keeter chuckles and flashes a devilish smile as he points at Trish and whispers loudly. "If I'd told you what happens after the wedding… she'd hit me over the head."

Laura passes a puzzled look to each of the adults in the room as Skates suddenly exclaims "Jack!" and Trish raises a stern eyebrow and shakes her finger at him. "You keep that up Mister, and I may hit you over the head whether you tell her or not! You may leave here… on a gurney." She informs him in a voice of deadly calm.

Concerned for a moment, Laura's head swivels as if she's watching a tennis match. Miss Trish looks serious. Keeter's trying to look serious, but he really wants to laugh.

"Dude! She's never looked at me like that! I think you better behave!" Laura coaches conspiratorially.

Keeter chuckles and whispers back. "I'll try, but it might be hard."

Laura sighs dramatically and shakes her head in exasperation. "Okay man… But if she hits you… You better put me down first… Or we're not friends anymore!"

"Hey Kid! Don't worry about it. I'm not gonna let anything bad happen to you."

"Better not! Aunt Mac will kick your butt!"

Keeter's grin fades into a cringe. "She'd do worse than that Kid… A lot worse! Hey…" He looks around as if missing something. "Where is the dynamic duo anyway?"

"I'm staying with Miss Trish today, until dinner time, 'cause they went to the doctor to talk about how to make a baby."

Skates giggles quietly as Keeter throws his head back and laughs loudly for a second time while Laura looks at him as if he's gone mad.

"What's wrong with you Keeter?" Laura scowls and shakes her head in wonder. "I didn't say anything funny."

"That uncle of yours just doesn't listen. I told him how to do that a long, long time ago!"


	7. Baby Blues

****Chapter 7: Baby Blues****

**Author's Note: **This chapter is my attempt to realistically address Mac's medical condition. Be warned, the subject discussed within is of a mature nature and will make some of you uncomfortable. Donald Bellisario didn't do women any favors when he chose to oversimplify her condition the way he did for the sake of sensationalism and ratings. This is the truth, as best I know how to tell it.

* * *

Monday, October 27, 2007

"So how's married life?" Dr. Rebecca Thayer talks over her shoulder as she washes her hands in the exam room's small sink.

Mac smiles at Harm and raises an eyebrow.

Feeling a bit on the spot; he flashes own his smile. "Hey, she's here to see you. Therefore, I assume she's talking to you."

Pitching a wad of cheap brown paper towel into the trash after drying her hands; the doctor shakes her head and interjects. "Actually, I'm talking to both of you. See, most husbands don't even show up for these appointments. If they do, the most I usually get is a head poked in the door as he hands her off to me."

With lively eyes set in an animated face she smiles and gestures with her hands as she explains, "So, here's how this works… if you poke your head in the door before you scurry away like a frightened little mouse, I say hello. If you stay while I consult with my patient, I talk to you. If you're man enough to stay through the exam, and I'm gonna get all up in your business."

Harm nods and offers another smile; this one mingled with a hint of uncertainty.

Mac chuckles and pats his bicep affectionately. "Actually, she's going to get all up in our business whether you're here or not."

The doctor nods affirmatively. "That's true too!" She declares merrily. She leans casually against the sink. "So, I repeat, how's married life?"

Harm gives Mac's shoulder a tender squeeze. "It's nice. I like it just fine." He admits softly.

The two women make eye contact. "It's not at all like I remember." Mac confesses with a hint of a smile.

The doctor tilts her head to one side comically and squints. "Is that good or bad Sarah?"

"It's phenomenal! That's what it is! Let's see, we've been married…umm… almost two months. Yes, Halloween will be two months. There've been a few raised voices, but I haven't yet screamed like a banshee. He hasn't spent the night on the couch. I haven't thrown anything heavy at his head, or thrown his car keys into the ocean. I haven't threatened to leave him for his best friend… which, I might add, is not likely to ever happen no matter how bad he gets. So… yep, things are pretty awesome!" She concludes with a wide satisfied grin."

"My goodness! If you'd managed to do half that in the first two months of marriage… Well honestly, I think I would suggest an annulment."

Mac waves the comment aside. "You don't understand. Last time, I managed to do all that in the first week of marriage! Marriage is different this time." She slips an arm around Harm's back and pulls him a bit closer.

The effervescent blonde shakes her head and chuckles. "Sarah, marriage hasn't changed for thousands of years. Maybe you're different."

"God, I hope so!" She breathes with enthusiasm.

"Did you really throw his car keys in the ocean?" Harm wants to know.

"Out of all the things I just mentioned, that's the one you question?" Mac raises an eyebrow.

"Yeah well, I've heard you scream before; though maybe not like a banshee. You've told me that you threw something at him, and I don't know which is less fathomable, the thought of you and Bud or the thought of you and Keeter. So, I'm not really worried about either." He grins. "But the car keys…" he runs his fingers through his hair and cups the back of his own neck.

"Actually, it was a lake, not an ocean but he was acting like a third rate jerk. I was mad. I had something to say and he was trying to leave. It wasn't really a conscious choice… no wait, that's not true, it was! I snatched his keys out of his hand and the lake was right there… So…" she pantomimes a slam dunk. "Anyway, I figure since there's an ocean in our backyard, if it ever does happen, that will probably be where." She smiles sweetly.

Harm turns slightly so that he can face her more directly and give her a moment of his undivided attention. "Mac, please don't ever throw my keys in the ocean." The statement is half plea; half quiet demand.

She shrugs happily. "Don't walk away from me when I'm yelling at you."

He nods slightly. "I'll try to remember that."

"Then I'll try to remember not to be a shrew." She acquiesces in a playful voice.

They turn their attention back to the doctor and she grins. "Things certainly seem good. Now that everyone's feeling a little more comfortable, let's talk seriously. How are you feeling physically?" While intending to give Mac a chance to answer, she steps forward and Harm takes ½ step to the side as the doctor begins to gently palpitate either side of Mac's neck with her fingertips; checking for swelling in the glands located there.

"I'm…" Mac stops; sensing that she's about to be shushed. She lifts her chin to allow better access and then waits until the doctor stops and offers her an apologetic smile.

"I know. Ask you to answer a question right when I need you to be quiet. We're as bad as dentist. They cram your mouth full of gauze, and then expect you to talk." She locates Mac's carotid artery and checks her pulse there with one hand and uses the other to do the same via the radial artery in her left wrist. She does this even though the nurse did the same less than fifteen minutes ago. After another moment of her patient's silence, she stretches her eyes wide and quietly teases, "It's alive!" as if she's auditioning for a zany horror flick.

Mac chuckles but otherwise ignores the comment. "I'm okay today. Been a bit tired… But I don't think there's anything to worry about. Between Harm relocating from London and Laura starting the school year I've been busy. We've all been busy."

The doctor nods. "How's work?"

"Same as it ever was."

"Still bored with it?"

"Yeah, but I don't mind so much anymore. Four months ago, when work was all I had, it was driving me insane."

Rebecca Thayer nods. "Getting your thrills elsewhere?" She lets innuendo hang heavy in the air.

Mac doesn't say anything. She lets her smile say it all.

"Not to be indelicate; but how is that? Any problems; discomfort... pain either during or after?

When a look of mild concern washes over Harm's face, Mac takes his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze as she adamantly shakes her head in the negative.

"I'd have been in here like a hollow point from a high powered rifle if there were!" She continues mostly for Harm's benefit. "But Rebecca you and I talked about that before. So far the worst of my condition seems to be concentrated in my uterus or in the space directly behind it. The minute we know endometrial cells are crowding my cervical cap; you're going to send me for at least a partial hysterectomy because I am not going to accept that. Not even as badly as I want to keep my uterus!"

"I remember something about that. I read something about it in all that information you gave me a few years ago." Harm says; returning his arm to Mac's shoulders.

Her eyes go wide. She partially covers her face and giggles nervously. "Oops! Sorry, that was an accident! You weren't supposed to get that pamphlet… not back then."

Harm flashes his grin. "Yeah, I kind of figured."

"But what, you read it anyway." She elbows him softly.

"Well… not immediately. It took me a couple minutes to get over feeling like a 12 year old who knew he wasn't supposed to be watching his 17 year old neighbor get undressed." He admits sheepishly.

"Only a couple of minutes; huh?" His wife teases.

"Well gee Mac, any 12 year old boy with half a brain in his head knows he's not supposed to do that, but unless there's something seriously wrong with him; he does it anyway. Besides, I was hoping that might be something I would need to know about one day… You know; just in case. Before I found that brochure, I didn't know that might happen. Once I did know; then I had to keep reading. I wanted to know if there was anything I could do about it; if there was some way to make it better."

Mac gestures toward Harm with her hands. She rolls her eyes, shakes her head happily and smiles for her doctor's benefit. For his, she leans in a little closer and whispers, "Thank you."

He nods quietly; passing a curious look between the two women.

Mac interprets silently and then encourages, "What; just ask. She won't mind."

The good doctor shakes her head and opens her arms in an inviting manner while she flexes her fingers in a come hither fashion. "Don't mind at all. It's part of my job. You don't ask… I can't answer, and that doesn't help anyone."

"Well, the one thing I was never sure of, is why? What causes it?"

The doctor ponders his question for half a beat and then asks for a clarification. What causes Endometriosis, or why is it possible for Endometriosis to cause pain associated with intimacy?"

Harm pauses to think about it himself. "Either one. Some of the information I read was confusing. Some of it seemed to contradict itself. Is the problem in her uterus or isn't it?"

"That's where the problem originates." The doctor moves to sit in the only chair in the small room, places her elbows on her knees and clasps her hands in front of her, leaning forward in a way that invites conversation.

"Endometrial cells belong in the uterus. They reside there naturally. At the onset of a normal healthy pregnancy these cells cause a thickening of the uterine lining that supports and nourishes the pregnancy. In normal cases, when the pregnancy is over, the lining returns to normal. When Endometriosis develops, the same thickening begins to occur without the pregnancy. The cells grow, transform slightly, form scar tissue, spill outside the uterus and continue to grow. These cells don't belong outside the uterus. Once they are outside they can travel anywhere in the body, but usually remain in the pelvic region; most likely because of hormone production. You heard Sarah say that hers tends to remain localized in the area directly behind her uterus. Last I checked, a bit over six months ago, that was still true. She does have some minor scarring in her fallopian tubes but so far, it hasn't presented cause for concern. To date, that's not what bothers her. It's that recurring knot of endometrial scar tissue that's putting pressure on her lower spine. Many women who have this condition, especially in the advanced stages, have problems in the romance department. If, as Sarah said, endometrial cells crowd, or breach the cervical cap the next stop is the vaginal vault.. At that point, it would become possible for you to have contact with this misplaced tissue during intimate moments and when that happens… Well… things just aren't fun anymore. Once the condition becomes this severe, there's only so much we can do. There are medications that slow the development and help manage the symptoms. These medications often can have some pretty wicked side effects, the worst of which being a high rate of sterility. Sarah's been trying to hold onto what little chance she has to have a child. Often, the best treatment, is a partial or full hysterectomy, depending on which is warranted, before it gets to the point that it negatively affects your sex life. Removal of the uterus usually stops the progression."

Harm nods thoughtfully. "You said, these cells travel to areas of the body where they don't belong, transform slightly, and keep growing. To me, that sounds an awful lot like cancer."

Dr. Thayer grits her teeth and flexes her jaw at the same moment, giving herself the appearance of someone who has just stubbed their toe or smashed their thumb with a hammer and then she nods with understanding.

"Cancer begins as cell transformation. Some doctors will refer to Endometriosis as pre-cancer because there is a minor cell mutation involved; plus, having Endometriosis does increase Sarah's chances for cancer. However, it's not cancer and I don't like to call it pre-cancer because it scares my patients, it scares their husbands, it scares every single person who cares about them; often needlessly. Just because she has an increased risk does not mean that she will ever get cancer. Sarah became aware of her condition early. She takes care of herself and she comes to see me once every six months instead of once the year. She has some serious fertility issues, but she is okay, and we're going to do everything in our power to make sure she stays that way."

Harm nods. "I'm all for that!" he declares; hugging his wife to his side. "But what causes these cells to… overact… in the first place?"

"We don't know. If we knew that, we might be able to cure it instead of just treating it; managing it. Studies have been done. There are some similarities between women who have it, but nothing definitive."

At this point, he turns his gaze to Mac. "I don't even know, do you take any medication for this?"

Mac shakes her head. "Well… She has me on birth control ironically. It helps with the symptoms. It also makes my cycle slightly less erratic."

Even as he begins to laugh, it crosses his mind that he shouldn't. "I'm sorry. It's just…"

Mac reaches out and places a hand gently against his chest. "It's okay Harm. You can laugh. I know, it's crazy! I've got almost zero chance of becoming pregnant and I'm still taking the pill."

He looks at the ceiling and rolls his eyes before lifting her hand and placing a gentle kiss there.

Mac turns her attention back to the doctor. "That's what we want to talk to you about."

The other woman nods. "I figured as much."

Mac takes a deep breath and launches in. Is there any chance, do you think, that I could carry a child myself?"

Harm chooses, at this point, to sit down beside his wife on the edge of the exam table and put both arms around her.

The room is silent for a beat before the doctor softly says, "I can't recommend that Sarah." She pauses again to let that sink in.

Mac nods miserably and fists one hand in the front of Harm's shirt as he tightens his embrace and kisses the top of her head. "Tell us why… I mean specifically. I need to hear it." She scowls; screwing up her face with the effort not to cry.

Rebecca Thayer nods and makes her voice as gentle as possible. "In the first place, getting you pregnant would be exceedingly difficult. I know it's not what you want to hear but odds are, you'd spend a lot of time, a lot of energy, and a lot of money on a procedure that just isn't going to work. Not for you. Most likely, at the end you'd be financially destitute, childless, and heartbroken. If by some miracle, medical or otherwise, we were able to get you pregnant; it would not go the way you want. Conception is only the first step. After that, you'd have to carry that child and I'm sorry, but you just aren't going to be able to do that. I wish I could tell you differently, but I can't. Not after what I saw when we did your last procedure. The walls of your uterus are not stable enough for pregnancy. They've been weakened by the procedures you've had and because of the thickening, your uterus has lost its natural elasticity. It's become rigid. Your body is not going to support a growing baby. If you were pregnant, that baby would put increasing pressure on your already compromised uterus. Sarah, you'd miscarry at best."

Wildly, erratically, but silently; Mac shakes her head as she clings to Harm.

"Sarah, if it hurts this bad just to hear it, how are you going to feel if it happens? And you need to bear in mind; I said that was at best. At worst, you'd be risking your own life; most likely because of hemorrhage due to a placental abruption."

The doctor watches them both shake their heads adamantly as they each wipe away the few tears the other one shed. Mac sniffles for a moment but then draws in a great breath and tries to be brave as she pats the arm around her middle.

"Then I guess we aren't doing that. I waited a long time to get him." She runs her fingers through Harm's hair. "I'm not planning on leaving hlm for a long long time. Besides, Laura needs me. We already have her."

A thought occurs to her and for a moment, she gives all of her attention to Harm. "Maybe now isn't the time." She sighs heavily. "But we need to think about adopting her; officially. I have guardianship, but what if something does happen to me; anything. Then, what happens to her? At the very least, we need to make sure the Child Welfare will let you keep her. I don't want her going to some stranger."

Harm gives her a pained smile and nods heartily before searching her face. He hadn't expected her to take bad news quite so well.

"I'll be okay… We'll be okay. I sort of knew it would go this way. But I still had to ask."

She gives them both a weak smile and the doctor nods.

"We'll take some time, when it feels right, we can talk about adoption." She squints and wrinkles her nose. "I mean… more than just Laura." She touches his face affectionately.

"I know what you meant." He whispers.

Dr. Thayer cuts in quietly. "We'd need to check again to be sure, but at your last visit, your ovaries were in good shape Sarah. It the two of you want to try surrogacy, it's not likely that you'd need an egg donor."

Harm keeps her close but leans back to raise an eyebrow. "What do you think?"

She gives him a look of uncertainty, nods her head, but then shrugs at the same time. "I want to, but I don't know Harm, . How are you supposed to ask somebody to do that for you? God, what an awesome and intimidating question!"

"You don't have to decide today. I'll send you home with some literature. You can think about it. You can ask someone you know personally, or you can hire a paid surrogate. We can talk about it more after we run some tests and after you make a decision. But I really should examine you. So you two need to decide if he is staying or going."

Harm slips from his perch on the edge of the table to stand upright once more. With gentle hands, he guides Mac as she swings her legs up onto the table and lies back. He turns his back on the doctor and smiles at his wife as he talks over his shoulder. "I'm not leaving her right now."


	8. Thunder & Lightning

****Chapter 8: Thunder and Lightning****

**Author's Note: **Thank you for all the positive feedback on the last chapter. I'm pleased to know many of you appreciated it. Also, I'm very close to making my decision regarding the name of Trish's gallery. Anyone who wants to weigh in, or offer any additional suggestions, please do so soon. Thank you all again!

* * *

Monday, October 27, 2007

Trish checks the pork roast in the crock pot and listens to Laura's end of a phone call with concern.

"Umm okay. Do I have to?" The child asks sounding small and worried. She is quiet for a moment while she listens to whatever her mother is saying on the other end of the line. "No, not really… But Mom… I don't want to. Judge Wayne said I could stay here." Laura chews on the inside of her bottom lip as she listens.

Trish retrieves a stick of butter from the refrigerator so it will soften before dinner and eyes the girl with apprehension as she puts a pot of tea on to brew.

Suddenly, worry becomes fear, and fear gives way to anger that boils out of the small girl. "Mom, don't call me that. I hate it when you call me that… And it's not fair." Frightened tears start to flow as she screams into the phone before abruptly ending the call. "It's not my fault! I didn't do anything bad! You did!"

Laura drops the small receiver for the household's cordless phone on the floor, grabs her walker and is off like a shot before Trish can cross the short space between them. She chases after the girl and stops abruptly; rocking on the balls of her feet when Laura's bedroom door slams a mere inch from her face.

Stunned for a beat, she mutters to herself. "Well… it's been a few years since that's happened! She steadies herself mentally, counts to three, and knocks lightly. She waits.

Laura's dog, Candy, comes to stand beside her. The dog sniffs at the bottom of the door, whimpers mournfully, and turns her mellow brown eyes to Trish expectantly. When there is no answer to her knock, Trish pats the dog's head affectionately and turns the knob.

She peeks in, expecting to see Laura curled up on her bed, but the girl is not there. The dog paws at the door which is not yet open wide enough for her to squeeze through. Stepping in, Trish doesn't have to search the room because the Labrador goes straight to the closed closet door and whines. She half rises on her hind legs and uses a paw to push down the spring loaded doorknob. Then the dog grabs a short length of rope with a tennis ball attached to the end, which is secured to the doorknob, and tugs the door open. She lets herself in three steps ahead of Trish, who stands at the now open door and peers around the jam as the big dog lays down, placing her fore paws and her large head squarely across the little girl's slender lap.

Laura wraps her arms around the dog and buries her face in Candy's fur as Trish taps lightly on the door frame.

Although her words are muffled, Trish hears. "Go away please." As Laura sobs miserably. I don't wanna talk to nobody right now."

Trish stays in the doorway; tilting her head to one side. "I don't think that would be very nice of me." She answers softly.

Laura lifts her angry tear streaked face and it's clear that she's also puzzled; curious, in spite of her present mood. She wipes her eyes against the arm of her long sleeve tee shirt and asks pitifully, "Why not?"

"Because I don't think it's very kind to let somebody you love sit in a dark closet and cry all by themselves. That's not how family works."

Laura raises an eyebrow skeptically.

"Well, that's not how my family works." She offers the girl a smile. "Can you please come out here so we can talk?"

Laura thinks about this request seriously for a moment and then asks tearfully, "Do I have to? I wanna stay here."

Trish briefly considers enforcing the request and then thinks better of it. Instead, she sighs and steps into the closet. Joining the girl on the floor, she slowly and carefully folds herself into a corner. Obviously perplexed; Laura watches her. When Trish is as comfortable as she know she's going to get in the cramped space, she reaches out for the girl and Laura scoots into her lap somewhat tentatively.

Trish lifts her slightly and settles her again in a position more comfortable for both of them, then wraps her arms around the small girl, and kisses the top of her head. "There now. Is that better?" She asks as Candy moves closer too; making sure she's still close enough to pet.

With obvious confusion in her eyes, Laura rubs the dog's ear and twists her neck awkwardly to be able to look up at the woman. "Nobody besides Candy ever got in the closet with me before." She whispers; sounding slightly in awe.

Trish chuckles lightly and hugs the girl closer. "Yes well, somebody has now. It's not good to sit by yourself in closets crying too often. With the rare exception, that's usually an unhealthy thing to do."

Laura squints. "I'm not sure what you mean. Is there some time when it is healthy?" She sniffles; still sounding small and confused.

"Only when you just really need a good cry, and you don't want to scare the kid asleep down the hall."

"Miss Trish, I don't understand. No kids live at your house." Laura's confused frown deepens.

"Not now darling, but one used to, a long time ago. Six year old little boys don't like it when Mom cries. It scares them."

Laura thinks this over for a long moment. "I used to hide so people couldn't scare me. My mom doesn't cry. She just yells; a lot!" She nods meekly; with only a fraction of her usual enthusiasm. "Hiding so you don't scare somebody else; 'specially a little kid. That's better. Wish my mom would do that." Laura sniffles again.

Trish searches the pockets of her slacks and comes up with a rumpled but clean tissue and holds it to the girl's nose. After a few seconds of wiping away tears and snot she asks gently, "Suppose you tell me what this is all about?"

Laura grimaces. "I like it here. I don't wanna go live with Mom." She folds her arms over her small chest.

"Laura, say that again." Trish queries; certain she misunderstood something.

Laura's exasperated breath comes out in a huff. "I said, I like it here. I don't wanna go live in jail with Mom. I didn't do nothing bad. I didn't hurt that police man. She did. And anyways, Derek's been to jail. He said that place smells bad and the food tastes really yucky. I don't wanna live there. I'll starve Miss Trish! Can you call Judge Wayne? He'll fix it. He won't make me go live there!"

Trish can't help but chuckle, so she hugs the girl a little tighter. When she can, she says "Laura, darling, I'm not sure how exactly, but you've misunderstood something."

"Na uh… Mom says she got… vas-tation…" Laura tries hard to get the word right; scowling with the effort. "Privileges and now she wants me to come be with her. I don't wanna go! Can she make me?"

"Ahh… Now I see the problem. Laura, you mean visitation privileges. That means, your mother is allowed to have people come visit her… Not live with her. You'll go there, you'll visit, and when the visit is over, you'll come home; back here, safe and sound with Aunt Mac and Uncle Harm."

"Oh… Really?"

"Yes darling; really."

"I still don't wanna go!" Laura shakes her head vehemently; feeling a lot better and sounding more like her usual self. "Not even to visit… What if she tries to keep me? Do I have to?"

"Aunt Mac and Uncle Harm are in charge, so it's up to them if you go or don't go. She can't keep you. She's not even allowed to try. If you do go visit, nothing bad is going to happen to you. Because, if anything did, your aunt Mac and your uncle Harm would cloud up in rain all over whoever was responsible, and I personally would get God to supply the thunder and lightning!"

Laura giggles and sounds a bit mystified when she asks, "You can do that?"

"Let anybody even try to mess with my girl and they'll find out!"

"When's Aunt Mac and Uncle Harm coming back from the doctor?"

Trish squints at her wrist watch in the dark closet.

Laura notices this and puts a bit of authority in her small voice. "Candy." She waits for the dog to pick up her head and make eye contact, then she points and says, "Light switch!" The big black dog hesitates only for a second then crosses the small closet, stands on her hind legs, and pushes the closet's light switch up with her nose.

Trish shakes her head. "Laura, your dog gets more impressive every day I spend with her." She glances at the watch again and answers, "They should be back any time now." She doesn't tell the girl that they are later than she expected. There's no need to alarm her… And perhaps Harm and Mac needed some time to themselves after the appointment she reasons silently.

"Are we waiting for them… Cuz I'm hungry now."

She hugs the girl one last time and then sets her on her feet. "I bet you are." She says; getting to her own feet again. "A good cry will do that to a girl."

As they cross the closet's threshold, Trish can hear the front door opening and her son's voice calls out. "Anybody home?"


	9. The Birds & the Bees Marine Style

**Chapter 9: The Birds and the Bees; Marine Style**

* * *

Monday, October 27, 2007

By the time Trish makes it into the living room with Laura on her hip and Candy following close behind, Harm is shutting off the burner under the angry sounding tea kettle. When he helps himself to a fresh baked oatmeal cookie, still warm in the middle, from the cooling rack, Trish wordlessly takes it away from him and he glances at his suddenly empty hand with a bereft expression that makes his wife giggle quietly. Mac covers her mouth; attempting discretion when he raises a mildly scornful eyebrow in jest.

"Those are for an after dinner Uncle Harm; not before." Laura explains sweetly.

He already knows that darling." Trish declares offering her son an unpleasant smirk as she returns the cookie to its place on the cooling rack.

Mac steps in close to the other two females and runs her fingers through Laura's hair affectionately as Trish lowers the girl onto a bar stool. "You okay baby? You look a bit tear stained."

"I'm okay now." Laura says as Trish notices sadly that Laura isn't the only person in the room who looks a bit tear stained. In fact, she's only one of three, but before she can ask any questions Laura's comment draws a questioning look from Mac and instead of asking questions, Trish supplies quietly, "Your sister called… Bit of a misunderstanding, but it's okay now."

Laura grimaces. "Yeah, I'm just dumb; that's all."

Shocked by the unwarranted declaration; all three adults object at once. "Hey!" Harm instantly forgets any desire he had for cookies while Mac exclaims, "No you're not!" Trish joins in with, "Laura, I don't want to hear you say that ever again! You're a very smart little girl!"

Unaccustomed to being corrected by even one person for saying negative things about herself, Laura comically pantomimes a duck and cover maneuver. "Okay, okay, okay!" She giggles nervously. "You don't have to yell guys. My leg's messed up. My ears work fine."

Harm leans on his elbows on the opposite side of the bar from her, gently calls her name, and waits for her to peek out from behind the arms folded over her head. "Sweetheart, we didn't mean to yell, or startle you. You just surprised us. There aren't any dumb people in this house… Okay."

"Laura, darling, you just got a little confused; that's all. That doesn't make you dumb." Trish turns her attention to both Mac and Harm. "Her mother called to say she's been given visitation privileges…"

"She asked me to come be with her. I thought she meant live with her… In the jail!" Laura fills in the rest.

Mac hugs the girl tenderly. "Pretty scary thought, huh?"

Laura nods vigorously.

"I would've thought she'd have visitation privileges before now." Trish queries.

Mac nods. "She did have. They were revoked as punishment for bad behavior before she'd been there a month."

Trish opens her mouth to ask why, then glances at Laura and thinks better of it. When she doesn't ask the expected question, Mac gives a slight nod and smiles with appreciation.

For a moment, Laura glances back and forth between the two women then shrugs and asks a question of her own. "Do I have to go visit? I don't want to."

"No." and, "Not if you don't want to." Mac and Harm answer at the same time; respectively.

Mac offers Harm a smile to go along with her look of mild surprise.

He raises an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you disagree."

She shakes her head adamantly. "I just thought you might need a little persuading. You and I have different views on family. You were all for me going to see Joe a few years back. Not that you were wrong, but…"

"Mac, that was completely different. Your dad was in a hospice. He was dying, and he reached out to you. You needed some kind of closure. Plus, you were an adult. I'm a grown man and a navy lawyer, and stepping into a brig makes me uncomfortable; no matter how many times I've done it. She's a little girl. Plus, it's entirely Casey's fault she's in there. Family aside, Laura shouldn't have to suffer for that."

He turns his full attention back to Laura. "Sweetheart, you don't have to go if you don't want to. We won't make you. But, if you ever change your mind; if you decide you want to go see your mom, you just let us know. We'll take you; if you want to go."

Laura is silent for a moment of serious contemplation and she scowls with the effort of it before she says "I don't wanna go." She shakes her head adamantly. She looks at Mac curiously to be certain that they're really in agreement and then smiles, fully recovered from her sour mood, when Mac nods.

"Then, you don't have to." Mac assures her.

Laura nods and switches gears more rapidly than anyone expected. Satisfied, and finally completely at ease, she changes the subject without preamble. "So… Are we getting a baby; or what?" She eyes her aunt and uncle with extreme seriousness.

Trish bites her bottom lip to keep from chuckling nervously. She's been busy trying to think up a delicate way to ask the same question. Leave it to Laura!"

She notices the glimmer of sadness that belies her son's smile when he answers. "Yes. We are… It's just going to go a little differently than we wanted it to." He moves around the island countertop and drops a comforting arm around Mac's waist.

"Why is it going to go different?"

"Because…" Mac answers. I can't have the baby myself. That means, we're either going to adopt, or we're going to find a surrogate."

Laura scowls and shakes her head in confusion. "Is that word English? I never heard that word before."

Mac kneels in front of the girl and holds both her hands. " Laura, a surrogate. Is a stand in; one person who does something important for another person when they are unable to. In this case, Harm and I will be looking for someone suitable to carry a child for us."

Laura wrinkles her nose. "Do you have to adopt the baby after it comes?"

"No, with a surrogate, there's no adoption because the baby would be ours from the beginning."

Laura frowns deeply. "Mom says the baby has to stay in the mommy's tummy until it's ready to come out because until then, it can't live without the mom."

Mac nods patiently. "That's right."

Laura passes a look of utter confusion between Mac and Harm. "So, they're going to take the baby out of you? And put it in somebody else? Won't that hurt the baby?"

Mac squints. "That's not exactly how it works. The baby won't ever be inside me because there's a place inside where moms carry their babies before they're born. Only, that place, inside me… Well, it's messed up. No baby can live inside me."

Laura shakes her head vehemently. "I'm confused! I already know you got something wrong inside you. You told me. That big word. Endo… something; but, if you can't keep the baby inside you, how do you put it inside somebody else."

Mac bites her lower lip. It's hard enough explaining this stuff to a small child when everything is perfectly normal. She pauses a moment to choose her next words carefully and while she's at it, she reaches for Harm's hand. He goes down on one knee beside her and pats Laura's knee affectionately as Mac offers a nervous smile to his mother.

The older woman smiles in support and shrugs. "You're doing better than you think you are." She assures in a hushed voice.

"First baby, that big word is Endo-me-tri-osis." Mac enunciates carefully. "And it's alright if it's hard for you to remember that or say it. Now…" Mac mentally crosses her fingers; hoping she'll get this right.

"Making babies is something special. You have to have both a mom and a dad. Neither one can do it by themselves because they each have part of what makes the baby inside them. If we do use a surrogate, instead of adopting a baby, we'll need a doctor's help. The doctor will take the part of a baby that comes to me and the part of a baby that comes from Uncle Harm and put them together. Then, with a little luck and maybe a little magic too, these two parts will get together and make the start of one baby. It'll be teenie tiny; so tiny you need a microscope to even see it. If everything works out the way we want, the doctor will put the brand new tiny baby inside the surrogate and we'll all hope that baby likes its new place and decides to stay in there and grow until it's ready to be born."

Laura squints, smiles, frowns, wrinkles her nose and tilts her head from one side to the other while she thinks. After a very long pause she announces with gusto, "Sounds like a science experiment!"

Harm and Mac cling to each other as they laugh.

"What?" Laura wants to know. "I'm perfectly serious! It sounds like a science experiment!"

Trish rests her hands on either of Laura's shoulders and kisses the top of the girl's head as Mac says, "Laura, it kind of… is… a science experiment."

Harm tucks a stray lock of Laura's hair behind her ear. "Do you want to ask any more questions Sweetheart?"

Laura's eyes stretch wide. "Yeah! Will it be a boy or girl?"

He grins. "We can't know that yet, not for sure… But your Aunt Mac's dreams lead me to believe he will be a boy."

Mac reaches over and pinches Harm on his bicep.

"Ow! What was that for Jarhead?" Harm rubs the smarting spot on his arm.

Mac grins wickedly. "Don't tell her that Squid. In the first place, there's no guarantee that the surrogacy will work. It may not. And in the second place, I told you, even I don't know for sure… Laura baby, if things don't work out exactly the way Uncle Harm says, I don't want you to be disappointed. We may have to adopt, or the baby I dreamed about might be a little girl."

Laura tilts her head to one side; thinking hard. "But, you had a dream about a boy?"

"I did. But most of the time, dreams are just dreams… And that's all."

Harm shakes his head and flashes his smile again. "Don't you listen to her sweetheart. She has trouble believing in herself…"

Laughing with exasperation; Mac exclaims, "Harm!"

Laura smiles at them. "But you believe Uncle Harm?"

"Kid you can bet your walker on it! Your aunt's dreams have saved my hide more than once! If she says she's dreaming about a boy; he'll be a boy!"

Harm winks as Mac protests yet again. "Really Harm! If she winds up disappointed, I'm gonna kick your six!" She laughs in spite of the threat.

Joining in with the laughter, Trish raises an eyebrow. "She has dreams? As in plural… as in more than just once."

"Boy does she ever!" Harm confirms and Mac groans in mild agony. He ignores the guttural noise from the back of her throat. "Mom, this lady has dreams that find the lost, locate and rescue drowning men, and apparently she already knows what your grandson will look like when he's approximately two years old."

Trish raises a curious eyebrow, but smiles. In response, Mac groans again and covers her face and head with her arms as Laura had done moments before.

"Harm, really… Stop it. Please." Her voice is muffled. "Don't make me wish I had never told you about that! I don't want you to be upset if you wind up with someone completely different!"

He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her close. "Not gonna happen." He whispers. "No matter who we wind up with. I'll be thrilled, no matter who or how; I promise." He kisses her lips lightly.

Laura playfully thumps the backs of her high top sneakers against one of the wooden wrungs of the bar stool she's sitting on and then goes completely still when a thought occurs to her. She frowns and asks with worry in her voice." After he comes; does he get my room? Where am I gonna live then?"

The adults in the room look at her in astonishment. Harm scoops her up and sets her down again on top of the bar; leaning forward on his elbows once more as he talks to her. He shakes his head. I'll make a new room for the baby; whenever he comes. Your room is yours… Forever. You stay here with us. No matter who comes next, you were here first. Nobody is sending you away just because somebody new comes. No matter what happens, you'll always have a place with us; got it?

Laura smiles and throws her arms around his neck. "Got it!" She says happily and snuggles close.


	10. Food for Thought

**Chapter 10: Food For Thought**

**Author's Note: **Dear Annie, please rest assured that Laura has not been, as you say, muzzled by writer's privilege or by any other means. She's having a rough night. Any child in her situation might first be focused on their own well being. She needed to know she wasn't going to live with Mom. Then, she needed to know she wasn't going to be ousted if, and when, the newest member of the family arrives. These are very real, not to mention very scary thoughts for someone in Laura's position. I am confident that when she is completely at peace all manner of questions regarding the "science experiment" will commence. How much do you wanna bet she'll ask some of them at the most inopportune moments?

* * *

Monday, October 27, 2007

While Harm and Mac both tend to Laura, making sure the girl is convinced that she will remain well cared for and safe, Trish steps away to answer the knock at the front door. Opening it, she smiles at her husband and kisses his cheek.

"What did the doctor say?" He asks in a hushed voice without stepping in.

Trish sadly shakes her head and quietly breathes. "I don't know the exact details but I know it wasn't good. Laura's mother called a short while ago and upset the apple cart. The poor darling ran and hid in the closet. I had only just managed to get her out when they arrived, so we've all been cleaning up the mess Casey made with Laura. They really haven't had time to explain; only to tell Laura that it will either be surrogacy or adoption."

"Ahh damn." He shakes his head; hope asunder and whispers in her ear. "Are you sure we should stay?" He waits for her to nod before he steps over the threshold. "Are they really up for a family dinner tonight? Maybe we should take Laura home with us; give them a chance to be alone."

She pats his shoulder affectionately. "They were later getting back than I expected. Judging by the looks of them, I'll wager they stopped somewhere and had a good cry. They're trying hard to smile and stay positive; maybe for Laura's sake… maybe for their own. I just asked. Harm said stay. Maybe we can lend support. Push them in a positive direction; or at the very least, take their minds off of it for a little while."

"Okay, I'm game." He says quietly as he picks a piece of lint off the shoulder of her summer weight sweater and then makes his presence known by loudly clapping his hands together once. Stepping into action, like a man with a plan, he grins and holds his arms open wide. "Where's my girl?" He smiles warmly at Laura who is still sitting atop the kitchen bar while Trish closes the front door after him.

The girl offers him a smile of her own and reaches out for him. "Mr. Frank!"

He scoops her up and hugs her tightly. "What have you and Miss Trish been up to today? Did you keep her in line?" Frank claps a hand on Harm's shoulder in greeting and offers Mac a one armed hug before helping himself to a bar stool and settling Laura on his lap.

Laura giggles and begins filling him and on her afternoon; rarely stopping for a breath as she enlightens him.

"Mr. Frank nobody has to watch Miss Trish. She's good. She's really busy too! First, she picked me up after school. She even got to talk to Liam for a minute. We went and got me a Halloween costume. The best one ever! I get to be Snoopy. Snoopy is awesome!" She declares with wide, happy eyes accompanied by her signature chin bob before rambling on. "She even made sure my costume will fit over my brace. Then we went to the gallery. There were lots of people in there today and she let me help her set up Chloe's exhibit. It's almost ready. I can't wait for Chloe to be here. I think it would be really neat to have an art exhibit on Halloween. I bet Chloe is super excited! All the pictures are so pretty, After we came home, we started making dinner and she let me help bake cookies! I've never made real cookies before. Mom and Mimi just by the ones in the store. Then my mom called." The ugly grimace that passes over Laura's face is a fleeting thing, by her own estimation; she has more important things to talk about so she plows on; largely undeterred. "Uncle Harm tried to steal one of the cookies when he got home, but he's too slow for Miss Trish! Uncle Harm and Aunt Mac have to do a science experiment if they wanna have their own baby, but I hope it works! Aunt Mac says they might need a little magic." She pauses long enough to shrug as if she's not worried. "Uncle Harm says he knows everything will be okay, 'cause he believes in Aunt Mac's dreams; even if she doesn't!" Laura tilts her head to one side and breathes deeply. Let's see… I don't think I forgot nothin'. No, that's it. I'm done!" She bobs her chin again in conclusion, but before Frank, or anyone else, can comment on anything that she said she declares with excitement, "Wait, I did forget! Uncle Harm said I get to stay even after the new baby comes, 'cause I was here first! And… We saw Skates and Keeter today!" She briefly turns her attention to Harm. "Uncle Harm, Keeter wants to know how come you have to talk to the doctor about making a baby. He says that you don't listen. He says that he told you how to do that a long time ago!"

After Laura had begun telling her tale, Mac had stepped into the kitchen to help out with what was left of dinner preparation. She now pauses, hot buttered knife midair and laughs aloud. Harm nearly chokes on the, still hot from the oven, roll he's just swiped from her.

Mac thumps him lightly on the back and offers him a paper napkin. When he can, he says "I didn't know he was here, or Skates' either for that matter, but Laura I hope you told that troublemaker to mind his own business!"

Laura shrugs and shakes her head negatively. "I didn't! But… Miss Trish told him if he didn't behave he might leave her gallery on a gurney! Uncle Harm, did he really spill airplane glue and mustard on your mom's rug? Miss Trish says that you took the blame, but she knows it was him."

Harm glances at his mother somewhat sheepishly before he quietly admits, "Yeah, he really did."

With a profound lack of surprise, Trish hands her husband a prepared plate. "Let's move this to the table; shall we?"

The small cottage is permeated with the aroma of slow cooked ribs as they all move to the table; plates in hand. Frank deposits Laura in the chair next to his and his wife quickly sets to work cutting the child's meat into bite size pieces. As they settle in, Laura's mind returns to their previous conversation.

Thinking hard, she squints and purses her lips before asking, "Hey Aunt Mac, who gets to be the surrogate? Do you get to pick, or does the doctor?" Laura pushes up the sleeves of her long sleeve tee shirt, picks up her fork, and waits expectantly for an answer.

Mac has to pause her own thoughts as she takes a sip of iced tea. "It's a little of both. Uncle Harm and I get to pick people we'd like, but then the doctor has to run some tests to make sure they're medically suitable."

Laura squints again and all the adults can see she's thinking very seriously. After a protracted moment, she declares with absolute certainty, "I don't know what medically suitable means, but I vote for Miss Harriett. She loves you, and she's good at making babies too; she's got lots of them!"

Laughing, as are the rest of the adults in the room, Mac sets down her glass and takes Harm's hand. "Actually, Harriett was one of the first people to come to mind. Harm and I talked about it this afternoon. But, she lives 3000 miles away and as you so aptly pointed out Laura, she already has lots of babies to take care of. I'm not sure it's fair of us to even ask her. She's a very busy lady."

Trish sets down her fork. "If I may weigh in…" She waits for both Harm and Mac to nod consent before she continues. "If you wait for the person whom it's fair to ask; I'm not sure you'll ever ask anyone. I also understand the reasons you might be inclined to exclude Harriett. She is an extremely busy woman with four children under the age of ten, but that also speaks to her suitability. I know she and Bud lost a child, but if memory serves, that was through no fault of their own. She's proven that she can manage to be pregnant in the midst of the chaos that only children can bring. That and well, frankly put, Laura's right. Each one of her children is healthy, well looked after, and happy. I'm quite certain there is a rigorous screening process set in place for surrogates. There simply has to be. But I don't particularly care how rigorous that process is. Were I going to ask someone to do that for me I would not only want them to pass through that screening process, but I would want them to be someone I knew personally; someone I could trust intimately. After all, this is your child and my grandchild we're talking about."


	11. Mattie

**Chapter 11: Mattie**

**Author's Note: **Annie, absolutely no offense was taken. Just thought I might respond. You seemed concerned.

Also, what do you guys think of the avatar associated with this story? An artist friend of mine decided to officially give young Laura a face.

On another note, this chapter is a tough one. Grab a box of Kleenex and consider yourselves warned. I've needed to get to this for several months now.

* * *

Tuesday, October 28, 2007

When dinner with Trish and Frank was over Harm and Mac Harm did their best to remain upbeat until after Laura was in bed. That done, they sat quietly in each other's company, together but apart; each of them suddenly too spent to talk anymore about the disappointing day they've had. They comforted each other with their presence only; each one lost in their own private thoughts.

Harm remembers the two of them drifting into bed. He'd fallen into a restless sleep; his head filled with thoughts that he both did and did not want to share. He was afraid to. Sleep had been brief for him, brief and unfulfilling. He'd given it up for lost more than two hours ago and gotten out of bed; desperate for something to occupy his unquiet mind lest he should wake Mac.

Lost in both his thoughts and his work, he is momentarily shocked when Mac's bare feet come into view in his peripheral vision. He'd been so absorbed in his own thoughts; he hadn't even heard her approach. Not that bare feet on ceramic tile make much noise.

He turns his head and glances up at her while on his hands and knees on the new bathroom floor. He stops what he's doing and sits back on his heels. "Mac, what are you doing out of bed. It's really late." He wipes his bare arm across his face.

"I came looking for you. I woke up when I realized your side of the bed was cold." She's careful to stand close enough to be heard at a whisper, yet far enough away so as not to step in the wet grout Harm is spreading over the new tiles. "Harm it's after 0200. Can't this wait for daylight?"

"Couldn't sleep. Didn't want to lay there and toss and turn. I would've woken you."

Her hands resting on her hips, she smiles with a touch of irony and yet says very gently, "If your plan was that working in here would keep you from waking me… I think something went wrong,"

"I'm sorry. Am I making noise? It's just a bucket and a sponge." He says gesturing toward the bucket within easy reach with one hand, and holding up the sponge up in the other.

Up until this moment, she thought maybe it was her imagination. Now she is certain that it is not. He won't quite meet her eyes. He hasn't for several hours; not even before bed. She tilts her head to one side studying him; the reason for his behavior elusive and just out of her grasp but still causing her intuition to prickle slightly. "Harm, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." He lies; the hint of something hard in his voice; something he can't quite keep locked away. He inhales deeply. "Go on back to bed." He says with more affection. "Try to get some sleep. You have work tomorrow."

She kneels and whispers. "Harm?" she waits silently; determined to stay as long as it takes. When he finally gives her his eyes she is nearly knocked off balance by the anger that radiates from them.

Instantly worried, the first thought in her head is, 'What did I do?' Though it feels longer, it only takes her a second or two to set that thought aside. Whether she will admit it or not, she usually knows when she's done something wrong. She doesn't usually have to question it.

"Wow, okay!" She lets out a breath she hadn't consciously chosen to hold in. "I'm usually the one who's up at all hours of the night looking for something, anything, to do because I'm too mad or too scared to sleep."

His only reply is a grimace.

"Hey Flyboy… Talk to me okay? Please? This is a little weird." She admits nervously. "I can't remember the last time I saw you this pissed off." Inside her head her own voice whispers, " Liar!"

"I'm not mad at you."

She nods and breathes quietly. "That's a minor relief. You look mad enough to set something on fire. Who are you mad at?"

"Can you just go back to bed?" He tries again.

Without even pausing to think about it, she shakes her head silently. She's not the only one who remembers the last time. He does too. And now it's the invisible baby elephant in the middle of the room and Mac is determined not to let it grow to mammoth proportion; or at the very least, not to run from it. Not this time.

He tosses the sponge in the bucket with more than enough force to agitate the dirty water within. For a second, he glares at her but he can't maintain it. It's not her fault. None of this is her fault. Still, he wishes he didn't feel trapped in this brand new room with her; with their old hurts between them. "Do you have to be so damn stubborn?"

She nods with empathetic eyes.

"Why?"

"Because I wasn't last time. At least, not when I should have been."

He squints at her for a second before quietly giving in. "I'm mad at myself… Okay?"

"Okay." She answers calmly. "Why?"

"Because this isn't how you wanted to do this. I screwed it up." He says angrily.

Mac looks around; confused. "What, the bathroom?"

"No." He says with frustration. "The surrogacy. You wanted to carry. I know that. I waited too long."

She nods slowly as comprehension dawns. "Harm, you're only half right. You didn't wait too long. We did. This isn't all on you. Those are some impressive shoulders you've got there Flyboy, but even they weren't meant to carry the weight of the world; not all by themselves."

"I wish you'd gone through with your plans a year and 1/2 ago."

"I don't believe you." She fires back. More gently she says, "That's not what you said a week ago."

"Yeah, I know, but a week ago we didn't know it was too late. You could have been pregnant if you've gone through with it."

"Harm, there's no way you can know that. It's entirely possible that if I had tried, it wouldn't have worked. But that's a moot point anyway. I didn't want to try… not without you. I don't regret that decision. Not even now, and I never will."

"It's still my fault."

She can't help but laugh. "Please tell me how my rotten uterus is your fault."

"Not that. Mac, that's not anybody's fault. That just… is."

Amazed at his logic, she stands and leans against the wall to the right of the door. "I wish I could accept it that easily." She says flatly. "It feels like my fault."

Mildly stunned, he gives her a bizarre look. "The doctor said they don't know what causes it. How can it be your fault?"

"They don't know what causes it. They do know there are a lot of things that exacerbate it. Things like, waiting until later in life to have children. Stress, caffeine… alcoholism." She looks at her hands. "I waited on purpose. None of the men in my past were right. I didn't want to have a child with any of them… Not even Christopher. But the rest of it, Harm… I was making it worse."

Mindful of the wet grout, he finally rises to his full height, carefully crosses the room, and pulls her close, folding his arms around her tightly. "If you didn't want a child with any of them, then waiting was the best thing to do. As for stress, caffeine, and alcohol… Mac there probably isn't anything in this life those three things don't make a worse. Most of us know this, and yet we do the things we do anyway. That doesn't make you guilty so much as it makes you human. No good will come of beating yourself up."

She tips her head back awkwardly to look up at him. "I shouldn't beat up on myself. But it's okay if you do it? You've got some warped logic Flyboy." She lays her head on his shoulder.

"That's different. If I hadn't gotten mad, lost my temper, acted like a complete ass two years ago…"

Mac picks her head up and takes his face in both of her hands. "No! You stop it right now! You'd never ever ever ever ever ever ever have to apologize for loving her, for missing her, or for being sad or angry because she's not here anymore."

"I shouldn't have chased you off. If I hadn't, we might have had time."

"Again… Still not all your fault! I didn't have to go. I chose to go. I chose to stay gone as long as I did. You had to feel what you felt. You still do. And sometimes that all just has to come out. No one has taught me that better than you Harm."

"It still pisses me off. I guess I needed time. Mattie deserved all the time in the world. I wanted to give it to her. I still do… But I want you too. And now I'm mad all over again. If I ever stopped being mad. I'm not sure I did. I guess I just ran, hid from anything that reminded me how mad I am. Mac, I want to have this baby with you… I want it more than I've ever wanted anything… But it just reminds me."

"Harm." She says gently. "I'm confused. What are you saying? Wanting to have a baby makes you angry?"

"Yeah, but no. It's not that simple."

"Okay, so explain it to me. I'm listening."

"We don't even have a baby yet. Nobody is pregnant. Still, I'd do anything for this baby. I don't get it Mac. She was his; his biologically, his blood, his child, his daughter, his little girl. He just left her there, in that hospital. She needed him and he was… He was somewhere getting drunk. Afterward, after she was… gone." Harm's voice catches "I looked for him. I couldn't find him… not anywhere. Probably a good thing. If I had found him…" he drops his voice to something less than a whisper. "I'd have hurt him… really bad Mac." He confesses with fear in his words.

Mac doesn't care. It doesn't bother her at all. She holds on to him as tightly as she can even when he pulls back; confusion clearly visible on his face. He looks at her as if he's waiting for something.

"What, you think that's supposed to scare me?"

"Well, it scares me. Mac, I don't think I've ever actually wanted to hurt anybody before?"

"Harm, you're not really expecting me to stand here and tell you that I don't know what it's like to want to beat the hell out of a drunken father; to just beat him to a bloody pulp? Hello… "She's surprised to suddenly find herself laughing. "What? You didn't really think you couldn't say that to me? Did you?"

"It's not right Mac. He's sick."

"Yes Harm, Tom Johnson is sick… And he chose to stay that way. Being an alcoholic doesn't excuse anyone from acting like a decent human being. I use to go to an AA meeting in Yuma several years ago. There was a guy there who told me repeatedly over the course of several months time, 'You're not a bad person Sarah, you're a sick person.' Back then it made me feel good. Now it just pisses me off. Now, instead of sounding like an explanation; it sounds like an excuse. Being an alcoholic doesn't excuse him for being a lousy father. It's okay to be mad at him. It's even okay to want to beat him to a bloody pulp… Just so long as you don't actually do it. But, restraining yourself, that's not for him. That's for you."

She pauses for a moment collecting her thoughts and decides to share something important that she's never told him before. "When Joe was in the hospice, the priest there, Father Genaro, had to pull me off of him. The man was in a coma Harm, and a priest had to literally pull me off of him. So please understand, the important thing is not that you feel this way; it's what you do with it that matters. I think you already know that. I think you know that beating Tom Johnson senseless wouldn't have made you feel better, and anyway, that's not what you owe Mattie. Pounding on a sick old man in a coma; screaming at him, didn't make me feel any better. His wallet did."

"His wallet?"

"Yeah, his wallet. I've still got it. It's inside that chest; the one that Uncle Matt built. One of the compartments inside that wallet has a handful of newspaper clippings in it. They are all about me; my service, my career. It doesn't make up for all the bad that he did; not even close. But it does help. It helps to know that he thought about me after I left him. I don't know, maybe even missed me a little. I don't know if Tom Johnson has a wallet or anything else like that, but I do know he'll have to live with decisions he made for the rest of his life. When he is old and sick, Mattie won't be here for him to reach out to. He has to live with that knowledge too. It doesn't make up for her being gone, I know. Nothing ever will, but whatever it is you think you'd like to do to him, it's not half as bad as what he's done to himself. None of it will bring her back. But that doesn't mean you have to let her go. It doesn't mean you can't keep her with you."

She places her hand gently over his heart. "Moving forward with me, with Laura, and whoever comes next, doesn't mean you miss her any less. It doesn't make you any less of a dad. Mattie's father wasn't that dad that you didn't have to be. You chose to do it anyway. Don't ever forget Harm, she had you… And she still does… And I love you for it."

Harm clings to his wife, dreadfully afraid to say what he desperately wants to say; knowing it might break him. "Mac, I miss her so much."

Mac quietly reaches out with one hand and closes the bathroom door before she tightens their embrace and doesn't let go.


	12. The Short End of The Stick

**Chapter 12: The Short End Of The Stick**

**Author's Note: **Curiouser &amp; curiouser. If anybody feels confused while reading this chapter, you're not alone. Remember, he's a spook! I promise, I will enlighten you as soon as I find some illumination myself!

* * *

Tuesday, October 28, 2007

Mac tries to disentangle herself from her sleeping husband's embrace without disturbing him. It doesn't work. He tightens his hold. She tries again; this time giving up the effort not to disturb him. She playfully pokes his shoulder with two fingers. He murmurs; only half conscious.

"Harm, let me go. I have to get up now. If I don't, I'll be late for work and Laura will be late for school."

"Ten more minutes." He disagrees with a yawn but does not open his eyes.

"You can stay in bed as long as you like, but I have to get up now."

He opens one eye and flashes a sleepy version of his customary grin. "You… stay… Here with me; ten more minutes."

She smiles languidly but slowly shakes her head. "Not to say that isn't a highly tempting offer Flyboy, but I'm already going to have to rush as it is. It's almost 0600. I haven't showered. Laura's not up and I want to be at the office by 0730 at the absolute latest."

"Stay." He persists. "Ten more minutes. Then, you can shower and I'll get Laura up. I may as well get up anyway. Tomorrow I have to."

"Meh." She thinks it over. "Okay… But only ten more minutes." She settles back in. "Anybody ever tell you you're a bad influence? She kisses his bare shoulder. "Are you excited about tomorrow?" She can feel the slight flexing of his jaw against the top of her head when he grins in anticipation of taking up his new post.

"Yeah, I'll admit it. I am."

Mac murmurs quietly. "Look out Special Warfare Command. Here he comes!"

It's his turn to poke her as the hazy light of early morning streams through their favorite window; overlooking the water. "I can't tell if you're being supportive, are predicting doom."

"A little of both." She says with equal parts pluck and sass. "Trouble does have a way of finding you Harm. Fortunately for the people around you, you seem to be exceptionally good at getting yourself out of it."

"Years of practice." He admits with ease as memories of some of his adventures flash through his mind like worn out images on an ancient reel of eight MM film in dusty condition. Although many of those memories were made with the woman at his side, not all of them were.

He breathes deeply and she senses the slight shift in his mood. Remembering the heartache and the nearly torrential flow of tears from a few hours before, she gently runs her fingers through his chest hair and snuggles a little closer. "You okay Flyboy?" She asks softly.

"Yeah, I am. I was just thinking about Keeter."

Surprised, she chuckles with the slightest bit of self deprecation. "I guess it's good that you can still surprise me, but boy did I call that one wrong."

All too aware of her thoughts, he squeezes her shoulder and kisses the top of her head. "Mattie's taking a breather. I don't hear her voice at just this moment."

"Often?"

"Daily. Usually multiple times a day. She's been fussing at me for the better part of two years to come here and…" he forms quote marks in the air with his fingers. "Fix things."

Mac chuckles softly. "No wonder she's taking a breather. Harm, she's exhausted! You are kind of thick headed; you know?"

Undisturbed by the mild insult, he shrugs. "You're a fine one to talk Jarhead!"

She gently pokes him for the second time and says with a smile. "I didn't say you weren't in good company."

Harm opts to pretend he didn't hear her. "Laura said she saw them yesterday at the gallery; Keeter and Skates I mean. You don't suppose they're here together?"

Mac shrugs. "Obviously they are spending time together, but I doubt they arrived here together. Keeter got PCS'd."

Harm lifts his head off the pillow and raises an inquiring eyebrow. "And exactly how would you know that? Laura didn't say anything about a change of station for him. She only said that he's here."

Mac makes a show of widening her eyes mischievously. "Oh… I have my ways."

Harm eases her onto her back and rolls with her until he is propped on his elbows squinting down at her beneath him. "What aren't you telling me Marine?"

Mac smiles up at him sweetly. "When he showed up for the wedding, he happened to mention that he was stuck in Germany, through no fault of his own. It took me awhile to put two and two together and come up with four, because he couldn't give me very many details, but I got there eventually. I felt bad. So… I cashed in a big favor." She shrugs as if it's no big deal.

Wholly unconvinced by her easygoing manner, Harm asks; "Why should you feel bad if Keeter got himself stuck in Germany?"

"Harm, you aren't listening. I told you, it wasn't his fault."

"Okay, so who's fault was it?"

Mac holds her right hand up for him to see with ¼ inch gap between her thumb and forefinger. "Maybe it was just a tiny bit my fault… but mostly it was Webb's."

Harm tilts his head to one side and squints doubtfully, and with no small amount of curiosity. "Explain please."

"You won't like it." Mac warns lightly.

He considers this for less than ½ a second and nods. "Tell me anyway."

"January 2006. Clayton Webb showed up at my office unexpectedly one day. I refused to see him. I should've known he wouldn't take 'no' that easily. I just didn't think about it. So naturally, that evening he was knocking on my front door. He said he needed help with an assignment. I stopped him before he could explain any further. I declared myself not to be in the 'need to know' category, and told him I didn't care what he needed or why he needed it. I didn't want to know. I told him to look elsewhere. Turns out he did and somehow the next person he found was apparently Keeter. I don't know many of the details. But I know Keeter wound up on the wrong side of a job that unsurprisingly didn't go well. Keeter told me that much himself. Harm, I know we all make jokes at his expense about his colorful personal life. That being said, he's good. I'd have no problem working with Keeter again. It only it took me a few seconds after he told me about a mysterious job with the State Department to think of Clay and to start wondering if maybe he somehow got a raw deal. He wouldn't say so himself; I asked him and he just shrugged it off. So, I made a few phone calls last month. It had been nagging at me since the wedding. I called Langley. Had to call a few times. After the third and fourth call, I got the sense that Clay was ducking and my calls. I told April, Laurie June's replacement, to tell him that if he didn't call me back within 24 hours I would get on a plane, and camp out in his office for as long as it took. Six hours later Webb was standing in front of my desk at the JLSO demanding to know what the problem was. I have to say, it kind of impressed me. Clay's usual motifs operandi is to avoid me when I'm less than thrilled with him… Dealing with me head on really isn't his style, or at least it didn't use to be. We had a rather ominous verbal sparring match… Until I got what I wanted. He finally admitted things didn't go well with the assignment, and he conveniently let most of it fall on Keeter. I promised to make good on an old threat… To hang his ass over a very deep chasm. Then, I made a few new threats. Next thing you know… Keeter's stateside. I hope things are better for him now. I'm sure he'll call to let us know he's here. Maybe he could help you uncrate Sarah. She's at Magellan now; right?" Mac gives him a look of mild uncertainty; hoping he'll take the suggestion lightly.

Harm can't help but grin. "Yes, Sarah arrived at Magellan two days ago. I'm going to go visit her this coming weekend, and nice try Marine! That was a fairly smooth change of subject. Thought you'd slip right passed my questions; didn't you? You not only called but apparently saw Clay last month and conveniently forgot to mention it. Were you going to mention it before you departed for Virginia?"

"Mention it?" She feigns insult. "Hey, I was gonna take you with me… If I had to go! You were back from London by then. I would've filled you in on all of it, at least as much as I know if we needed to go. We'd go down there and rattle his cage just like we used to! It might've been fun." She announces with a wicked smile.

"Fun huh?" he asks skeptically. "Then how come you didn't tell me about it until now?"

She shrugs and explains simply. "Didn't have to go. And anyway, by the time I got home that day; the last person I wanted to talk about was Clayton Webb. As memory serves, you were in a particularly pleasing mood." She flashes a seductive smile. "I didn't wanna distract you. Mention of Clay would have spoiled the mood. I didn't think about him again for a couple of days. And by then, it was over and done. He'd gone back to… wherever he came from. You know Clay. The only thing he does better or faster than show up at inconvenient moments; is disappear."

Harm watches a slight frown materialize and then vanish from her face. "You could have told me sooner Mac. You probably should have. And I'm not at all sure why you think you might bear any responsibility for whatever happened to Keeter."

"See if you can get Keeter to tell you about it whenever you two see each other; I'm sure it will be soon enough. I felt bad. Clay tried to ask me to go… do whatever it was Keeter did. I wouldn't even give him the chance to explain. The next guy down the list just happened to be one of your best friends. It wasn't technically my fault… But… Let's just say I feel better now. As for Clay, I'm fairly certain he won't be popping by anymore. But if I'm wrong, I'll tell you about it… If you really want me to."

"Please do. What makes you think he won't be coming around again the next time he needs a professional favor?"

"He knows I'm not going to work with him. He also knows I've gotten married. Last month I caught him staring at my rings. He didn't ask. I didn't feel it was necessary to supply him with answers to questions he wasn't going to lend voice to. We are none of his business anyway. I used to tell him that even when he did have the right to ask. Prior to last month, the last time I saw him was almost seven months ago. I can tell he's still extremely uncomfortable with what transpired then. His discomfort keeps him at arm's length. I'd prefer things to stay that way between us; lest he get the wrong idea."

"What happened seven months ago?" Harm questions boldly and with mild concern.

"He needed a place to dry out again; get back up on the wagon. I did help him with that, but that's all it was Harm. He spent a week here, and then I drove him to some swanky rehab his mother booked him into."

"He was here with you?" Harm looks around the room uncomfortably.

Mac rubs his back affectionately. "Harm, he was never in this room… I promise. Please, don't even go there. I couldn't have been less interested in that. And no one, absolutely no one, is sexy when their drying out!"

"Okay… But were you safe with him here in that condition. My understanding is that detox is one door away from Hell. Not just for the person going through it, but also for the person or people helping them through it."

"Harm first, realize that, other than Laura's bathroom, our bedroom door is the only interior door in this house with a lock on it. Clay, here and drying out, is the reason that lock was installed. Second, forget the one door away theory. Detox is hell; the seventh ring of it. Clay's life, his work, didn't make it any better for him. It was ugly; for him and for me… I've never seen a week quite like that one; not even when I was drying out. I don't want to see another one like it either. I can't say I'll ever do it again, but I don't regret doing it. I'm actually glad I did, but if he falls again. He has to look elsewhere. He knows that too. After he left here, for rehab, I didn't see him again until last month. I did get a postcard about four months ago though. There were only three words on it. 'I owe you.' He didn't even sign it, but I'd recognize his handwriting anywhere. I decided to cash in… For Keeter. I still don't know what the hell happened in Germany. But, at least Keeter's home. That's good enough for me."

Harm nods thoughtfully. After a quiet moment, he asks "So, how did Webb seem last month?"

"Sober… And better. Don't get me wrong, he still a smug bastard… And not half as smooth as he thinks he is; but he's better."

Harm is a bit surprised when she actually giggles before concluding. "Reminds me of that old saying, You can sober up a horse thief….."

Harm guesses, "But he's still a horse thief?"

Mac's pretty mouth stretches into a wide grin. "That's it!" She declares and gives him a brusque kiss. "Now get off me Squid! I've got to get ready for work, and you've got to wake Laura."


	13. Author's Note I'm Back!

Author's Note:

Dear friends and readers a couple of months ago my family suffered an unexpected loss that sent us reeling. I should have gotten in touch sooner, but simply was not up to it. For awhile I just stopped ... everything. However, the sun also rises.

Although my initial shock wore off a couple of weeks ago I found myself subsequently suffering with a bad bout of writer's block. It's taken me some time to get back into the swing of things, but I think I'm ready. Give me a short time to read through the last few chapters of Mac and Harm's story (and sort through all your e-mail to me) Thanks for staying in touch even when I didn't. I promise I'll have something new for you by the end of the weekend. Looking forward to writing again and to sharing it with all of you.


	14. Busy Man

**Chapter 14: Busy Man **

**Author's Note: **Thank you all for your sympathies and heartfelt condolences.

* * *

Tuesday, October 28, 2007

On his way through the living room, moving from their room to Laura's, Harm works his arms into a T shirt and then slips it over his head while Mac busies herself in their bedroom closet; selecting her attire for the day. He opens Laura's bedroom door and is mildly alarmed to find her bed empty at this early morning hour until he hears the muffled sound of water running in the bathroom sink. He takes two steps back and turns to his left before he realizes that he missed seeing Laura's walker positioned just outside the bathroom door. He yawns, realizing that he missed it because he's not fully awake yet. He shakes his head in response to his own error and wraps gently on the door.

Laura's "Come in." is both muffled by the closed door and somewhat slurred. He complies and smiles when he realizes why. Balanced carefully atop a small step stool and leaning against the vanity for support, she is clad in vivid orange and purple striped pajamas. She's only partially awake herself, but there's already a toothbrush in her mouth.

Harm flashes his sleepy smile and teases her. "You know, most kids your age have to be nagged and reminded to brush their teeth."

Laura squints and shrugs but finishes the task at hand before she spits toothpaste in the sink and answers, "That's just gross! My mouth tastes yucky in the morning even though I brush before bed." She wrinkles her nose in disgust. "I don't like that! Hey, where's Aunt Mac?"

As Harm answers, he steps into the room and around her on his way to the shower. He reaches in and turns on the hot water in anticipation of Mac's arrival. "She's picking out her clothes for the day. We were a bit late getting up. I told her I would help you get ready for school while she got ready for work, that way no one will be late."

Laura wipes her mouth dry on the sleeve of her pajamas before informing him. "I can dress myself. You can go make me some breakfast!"

As he leaves the room again Harm notices that she carefully steps down off the step stool and makes her way out of the room; one hand always kept on the vanity for support until she reaches the door jamb where she steadies herself while she reaches for her walker out in the hallway. "Why don't you bring it in here with you? Wouldn't that be safer?"

She nods her head; her hair still unruly from sleep, "The walker won't fit through the door." She pulls the walker to her to demonstrate. "See."

Harm can't help but wonder why he hasn't noticed this before now. As she pulls the walker to her he realizes that the hand grips will pass through the door on the left side but her walker bumps against the open door on the right where it's hinged and she can't pass through. The small walker is literally ¼ inch too wide to fit through the narrow doorway. "Well that's just ridiculous!" he says more to himself than to her. "Why didn't I know this? Why didn't you say something sweetheart?"

Laura shrugs as she moves toward her bedroom. "It's not usually a big deal. I don't have my brace on yet. That just makes walking harder. That's probably why you noticed. There's lots of places to hold on to in there so it doesn't really matter. I can balance. Mom's trailer's got even skinnier doors, so, I'm use to holding on to stuff if my walker won't fit. "

Harm runs his hands along the narrow expanse of wall beside the right portion of the door jamb. "Yeah, but I can fix this; easy. I don't even have to make the doorway wider. There's a different kind of hinge that will allow the door itself to open flat against the wall so the door wouldn't be in your way. It won't make the doorway much wider, but it will give you the little bit of space you need to get your walker through."

Laura squints; confused.

Harm explains as best he can. "If I put a different type of hinge on this door… " He points to the hinge that is already there and demonstrates that the door will only open so far. "It will allow the door to open differently so that it will swing all the way open and stop against the wall it's hinged to. If it folds back against the wall…" Harm pauses to double check, making sure that the expanse of wall is wide enough to accommodate the width of the narrow door, "then the door itself wouldn't take up space inside the doorway and your walker would fit through." He smiles at her with enthusiasm.

Decidedly less impressed than he is, Laura shrugs. "Okay, if you want to. I don't care. Really Uncle Harm, I'm use to it this way. It doesn't matter. You're already making another bathroom. Aunt Mac said you're not gonna change this one. It's gonna be mine. You shouldn't spend the money. Mom says kids cost too much. I gotta get dressed now."

Harm sinks to one knee in front of her and gently halts her progress. "First, those hinges probably won't cost more than $10.00, tops. Second, I want you to forget all about what Mom says. You don't cost too much. And little kids aren't supposed to worry about money anyway. That's not your job."

Laura looks at him curiously and asks with a bit of a challenge in her young voice, "Then what jobs do I have?"

"Let's see." Harm makes a show of thinking about it and after a few seconds he answers, "Right now you only have three jobs. Do your best in school. Keep your room clean. And have as much fun as you possibly can… without getting into trouble." He tries without much success to smooth her messy hair as he stands. "Those are the only things a kid your age needs to worry about. Let the grownups worry about the rest; got it?"

Laura looks as if she's not quite sure what to do with this information but after a weighted pause she announces, "Okay, if you say so." She returns to her room; moving slowly without her brace. Before she closes her bedroom door she turns and smiles up at him as she asks" Are you gonna make me some breakfast, or what?"

Harm shakes his head in amusement as Mac joins him in the hallway on her way to the bathroom. "I'm going, I'm going!" he breathes

* * *

Several hours later Harm is assisting two men in coveralls as they move Mac's brand new bathtub from the back of their van to the house. The three of them are moving slowly and carefully up the front walk with their heavy load when a rental car Harm does not recognize pulls to a stop at the curb. He grins in welcome when Jack Keeter exits the vehicle. Leaving the driver's side door open, he sprints to their aid and tucks one shoulder under the rim of the overturned bathtub; lightening the load for the others. "Good God!" He groans in surprise at the old fashioned claw footed tub's weight. "Who knew these things were heavy enough to withstand a bomb blast! What's wrong with the old one?" Keeter cranes his neck awkwardly in an attempt to make eye contact around the end of the tub.

The question confuses Harm and the expression on his face makes that evident.

"You're getting a new tub. I assume there was a problem with its predecessor."

Harm shakes his head; mindful of the front porch step. "No predecessor. New bathroom. Needs a bathtub."

"And you had to pick the heaviest one available?" Keeter grouses.

"It's the one Mac liked best."

"And she couldn't get some of her jarhead buddies to come haul this thing into the house?"

"Didn't ask. She thinks it's coming next week. I want to have it installed before she gets home. This tub is the last thing to go in. Wanted to get it done before starting work tomorrow."

The men can't pass through the open doorway together; not with the overturned tub between them, so Keeter and one of the movers duck under the sides of the tub and support its weight from the inside while Harm and the other man stand at either end. They carry the tub slowly through the house into the new bathroom and upright the thing; setting it gently on the floor in the place where it's meant to stay.

Keeter busies himself with removing the bathtub's protective wrap and survailing his surroundings while Harm signs paperwork and shakes hands with the men who delivered the tub. Harm walks them back to the front door and when he returns Keeter spreads his arms wide, indicating the bathroom, "Not bad." He says in approval,

Harm nods, but otherwise ignores the comment. " What happened to Germany?"

"Apparently I was granted a pardon. Darnedest thing. Out of the blue." Keeter says; tongue in cheek.

Harm nods again. "But what happened in Germany?" He asks stressing the difference between the two questions.

"I could tell you I got roped into helping the State Department…" As he says the words 'State Department' Keeter forms quote marks in the air with his fingers. "bust up a multi-million dollar weapons smuggling operation, but that would be like comparing an RPG to a water gun. The whole thing went sideways and my… Oh let's call him a tour guide… That's about all he was good for… The oily a son of the bitch walked away clean. Me, not so much. But, mysteriously, the black mark in my service record seems to have pulled a better disappearing act than David Copperfield at his finest. I don't know what that wife of yours threatened him with but I'm fairly certain she's responsible."

"I don't think it was so much what she did threaten him with, as it was what she could have threaten him with; and he knows it. He owes her. She cashed in… And as far as I'm concerned, he still owes her."

"But for me? Why? She barely likes me."

"She likes you better than she lets on." Harm sets to work hooking the bathtub up to the water line; already in place."And she did it as much for me as for you."

Keeter points a finger in Harm's direction. Now that last part I actually believe… But I don't care why she did it. Not really. It's nice to be stateside again; better than nice. I guess I owe her now."

"That's not why she did it man." Harm declares over his shoulder from his place on the floor as he strains to reach into the confined space between the tub and the wall to complete the hook up.

"Doesn't matter."

Harm changes the subject. "Laura says you're spending time with Skates."

Keeter shrugs. "Nice girl… Woman." He corrects himself on afterthought and the change in phrase doesn't go unnoticed by Harm.

Harm nods in response. "Be nice to her."

Keeter feigns innocence. "I'm always nice."

Harm chooses his words with a bit more precision. "Be good to her."

Keeter eyes him speculatively. "She an old flame?"

Harm pauses in his work to grin at his old friend and shakes his head. "She's family."

"She asked me to go with her to this art gallery shindig your mom is throwing."

"You should. We'll be there."

"Not really my thing Brother."

Understanding completely, Harm chuckles quietly. "Not really my either. But it's Chloe's opening. Mac's all excited. It'll make her happy. Hand me that wrench." Harm indicates the tool lying several feet away in a corner of the bathroom next to his toolbox. When he has it in hand he returns to his work and continues over his shoulder. " I'm going to Magellan this weekend to uncrate Sarah and put her back together. She's probably gonna need a little work. Been two years since I took her up. Could use a hand getting her ready if you wanna come."

Stunned by the admission, Keeter says quietly, "I'm there."

.


	15. Droppimg in Unannounced

**Chapter 15:** Dropping in Unannounced

**Author's Note: **I really must thank you all one more time for your sympathies and heartfelt condolences; such compassion. You guys are awesome!

**Error alert**; It has just come to my attention that somewhere along the way I goofed when selecting the dates for these chapters. Most of you probably wouldn't notice this, especially not seven years after the fact, but I promise you there will be one reader who does notice and sadly doesn't read author's notes. October 28 of 2007 was actually a Sunday. The error first occurred in chapter three and based on what has been written so far, it's too late to go back and change it now. It would require a very complicated rewrite, so, please, just consider me human with all the wonderful faults that apply, and try to refrain from sending me messages that tell me so.

Steamboat: So happy to see messages from you again. I haven't heard from you since the close of Crossing the Ocean, and I was afraid I'd lost you. Glad you're still with us.

Sue: in this house, Candy's 'dog cookies' are referred to as 'good girl biscuits'. Dare to speak those three little words, and she'll spin in place like the Tasmanian devil for utter joy. It's really quite a sight! And now that I've said those three little words out loud I must pause here briefly and go get one, because she heard me, and if she doesn't get one it will break her little doggie heart.

* * *

Wednesday, October 29, 2007

Special Warfare Command 1230 Hours

Yeoman Christopher Peltier looks up from his work when he hears the chime from the bank of elevators signaling someone's arrival. When the doors slide open, the woman who steps out, carrying a takeout bag from a local deli, catches him by surprise. He decides instantly that the class A Marine Colonel's uniform has never looked so good on a woman and then he mutely reminds himself to keep his thoughts to himself.

Scarcely pausing to look around, as if she's been here 1000 times before, she makes her way to him with an obligatory smile that he could swear holds just the faintest whisper of mirth while he comes to attention behind his desk. "Good afternoon Colonel. What brings you to SPECWAR?"

"I'd like to see the captain." She states crisply with a nearly imperceptible hint of enthusiasm, as if there ought to be an air of familiarity between the two of them, as if this were not the first time he'd ever laid eyes on her. Her smile shifts to something more genuine and Peltier is eerily aware that he's missing something; some vital piece of information. He could almost swear that she's enjoying herself immensely underneath all of her stiff Marine bearing, but he'll be damned if he knows why.

"Is the captain expecting you ma'am?" He glances down at his desk calendar. "It's his first day. I don't have a meeting scheduled just now." Her smile finally reaches her wide dark eyes and he realizes that, although her command presence remains intact, for some reason this woman is silently laughing at him.

"No, he's not expecting me. Just tell him Colonel Mackenzie is here to see him."

Peltier nods once. "Wait right here ma'am."

She gives him an identical perfunctory head nod and shifts to an at ease posture as he moves to, and wraps lightly against the door to his superior's inner office. When his knock is acknowledged the yeoman pokes his head into the office and speaks so quietly that his words do not reach her ears, but she recognizes the distinct sound of Harm's quiet chuckle.

Three seconds don't fully elapse before Harm is at the door and sidestepping his yeomen. While flashing her his best smile, he gently claps a hand on the young man's shoulder and declares in a loud stage whisper " For future reference Peltier, Colonel Mackenzie is also Mrs. Rabb."

The senior officers endeavor not to smile as they watch the young man trying not to look awkward as he says quietly, "She didn't tell me that sir. You should've just said so ma'am. Why didn't she say so Captain?"

Harm's eyes sparkle. "Because she's evil that way yeoman."

The comment further confuses the young man and he passes a look between the two of them; his head swiveling as if he's watching a tennis match. "Evil, sir?"

Mac stifles a giggle; refusing to allow it to fully escape her throat. "I was just having a bit of fun with you." She admits.

"Begging your pardon Ma'am, but I wasn't aware that Marines had a sense of humor."

Mac smiles easily and shimmies her hand side to side in the air; indicating indecision. "Whether or not Marines have a sense of humor is debatable. Wives on the other hand…" Without finishing the thought, she steps nearer to Harm and holds up the takeout bag; putting it on display. "Lunch?"

"Sounds great! What'd you bring me?" He queries while ushering her inside his office.


	16. A Good Day

**Chapter 16: **A Good Day

* * *

Wednesday, October 29, 2007

Special Warfare Command 1236 Hours

Mac sashays passed Harm at the door to his office; smiling sweetly as they brush lightly against one another. Inside, she walks a half circle in a wide arc around the modestly sized room's perimeter, and ends her informal inspection by helping herself to the chair behind his desk.

Watching her; he can't help but smile. She's in a good mood. She cocks her head to one side and stretches her eyes wide. "Not bad Squid. You're moving up in the world!"

He shrugs easily; her mood is becoming contagious. "It's not as if its mahogany paneled Mac. Place could stand to be redecorated. What color is that anyway?" He asks indicating the paint on three of the four walls.

She shrugs happily and considers her answer. "Banana cream? You'll make it your own. It has potential… And I think the paneling on the back wall here is supposed to resemble oak. I think you have to move up another two pay grades before they give you one of those stuffy old mahogany paneled domains.

Harm moves close and, leaning on the back of his chair, he lightly kisses her upturned mouth before informing her quietly, "Banana cream is a pie filling, not a color."

She pats his shoulder as she stands, then takes his hand and leads him around to the other side of the desk where she settles in one of his visitors chairs and leaves the other for him.

When he is seated, she hands him the takeout box with his lunch in it and they spend a few quiet minutes settling in, with containers balanced on their knees, and locating plasticware, napkins, small plastic containers of salad dressing, and little packets of salt and pepper from the bottom of the sack. Harm finds himself with a small green salad and a bowl of vegetables soup. It surprises him to find that her lunch is similar. "You're eating salad? Are you sick?"

She rolls her eyes. "Hey, I eat salad… As long as I can put enough fattening stuff in it to make it taste good." She adds as an afterthought while she empties an extra container of salad dressing over hers.

He nods. "Your soup smells better than mine. What is it?"

Enchilada."

"Cheese enchilada?"

She shakes her head theatrically and teases, "It's chicken enchilada… Wanna bite?"

He grimaces as if she's just offered him road kill. "No thank you." He says drolly.

While spearing salad with a fork, she shrugs affably. "Suit yourself Flyboy. How's your first day going?"

"Okay." he says, pausing for a bite. "Normal first day stuff I guess; introductions, paperwork… You know how it goes."

"Your staff?"

"So far they all seem capable. It's too early to tell. Everybody's walking around on their best behavior. Curious about, and a little uncertain of, the new guy."

Mac takes the lid off a bottle of water, and hands Harm the one still left in the sack before she answers with certainty. "Most of them will like you."

Harm sets his water bottle down on the nearby corner of his desk. "Only most?"

"Harm, no one is beloved by all. You'll have one or two who will tolerate you, thanks to good order and discipline, and at least one of them will leave work, go home and secretly fantasize about your demise, but if they respect you, you will never know which one"

He studies her for a moment. "How is petty Officer Brandon?"

Mac doesn't quite chuckle before answering, fork held at the ready, "Out of the office today. It's peaceful. No outbursts, no tantrums, and no ridiculous mishaps. And the investigation into her conduct is not going to go in her favor."

"Ahh; that explains your lighthearted mood."

"It's not just that. It's October. The weather is mild. My husband has a new job. My new bathtub is glorious. Chloe will be here the day after tomorrow. Laura's dentist called my office this morning for a follow-up to her last appointment. He said that she can stop wearing her bite plate at night Harm. That's really great news! So, life is pretty close to perfect… Oh," Mac pauses on a less enthusiastic note "Mom called. Her car broke down again this morning. She was planning to go to the library, but when she went out, it wouldn't start. She still won't let us ask Frank for a deal." Mac shrugs. "But… I guess that's her choice."

Harm nods and they are quiet for several minutes, both of them busy with their meals until a thought occurs to him. "Bite plate? I thought it was a retainer."

"A retainer?" Mac queries in surprise.

"I saw her put it in her mouth one night before bed. I thought it was a retainer. It looks like one… I guess."

Mildly astonished at the error, Mac shakes her head. "Harm, Laura is too young for a retainer. She hasn't lost all of her baby teeth yet. Retainers are meant to help realign permanent teeth. There's no point using one on teeth that are just going to fall out within the next few years."

"Okay." He shrugs. "That makes sense. So, what is this bite plate for?"

"She grinds her teeth in her sleep, well, she used to. It's bad for the enamel. I had her fitted for the plate early last year, after she complained to me more than once that her mouth hurt early in the morning when she first woke up."

"Her mouth hurt?"

Mac nods. "I didn't understand it at first. I looked for a cavity. When I found one, I took her to the dentist. Turns out, the cavity wasn't bothering her, yet. What she was trying to say was, her jaw hurt. Apparently, that happens when you unconsciously spend all night clinching and grinding your teeth."

Harm squints at the news, letting it sink in, then he says more loudly than he meant to. "She's not even seven yet! People do that in extreme frustration, or under acute stress! To do it involuntarily in your sleep…" he inhales raggedly. "And the early part of last year, she was only five years old!"

For a long silent moment ominous anger darkens his blue eyes and sets his jaw firmly and then, for just a flicker in time, Mac thinks he might actually hit something. She takes his hand patiently in hers, and waits quietly for the moment to pass. When he attempts a brittle smile she nods. "I know. Last year, when the dentist explained it to me, I wanted to put my sister through a wall… But, the dentist called today to say that she can stop wearing it. He thinks she's stopped now. He said to try putting her to bed without it for a few nights and see if she wakes up complaining of pain. If not, she's done. Knowing that feels wonderful Harm. It means we're doing something right. And Charlie called yesterday too. Laura's getting some of her strength back in her leg. When he thinks she's strong enough, I'm going to put her back in swim classes. She loves the water and swimming is a low resistance exercise. It would help her, I think. Help her regain strength without wearing her out. Charlie says she's not ready yet, but she's getting there… And Harm she's so excited about Halloween at the art gallery."

"Now that I knew! It's practically all she talks about this week! Her enthusiasm is contagious. I haven't looked forward to Halloween this much since I was ten."

"I'm not exactly sure what your mother has planned, but I do know that tomorrow she's spending the afternoon with Laura and they are apparently going to get ready for Halloween… Whatever that means. But, right now, I have got to get back to my own office Sailor. I do like yours though. It's a far cry from the janitor's closet the admiral stuck you in when you returned to JAG following your walk on the dark side."

"Hey!" Harm objects playfully. "Mine was a brief excursion. I'm not the one who dated a guy who lives there year round!"

"I didn't live there with him! When he was home, he'd just bring his little spooky self over to my place and visit, that's all."

Harm nods. "Yeah, and it was the visiting part that bothered me. I didn't mind it so much when he was out of town."

She stands and runs her fingers through his hair. "Well, you don't have to worry about that ever again." She returns to the opposite side of his desk once more and tosses her empty food container in a wastepaper basket. While there, she catches sight of a collection of photographs in the upper right corner of his desk. Three framed tokens of affection; Laura smiling brightly up at the man behind the camera from her perch on a bar stool in Trish and Frank's kitchen, Mattie on a porch swing; maybe at her house ln Blacksburg. She looks as if she's just said something witty and unexpected to whoever took the photo. The third, and largest of the photos, is a familiar 8x10 of Harm and Mac together in Afghanistan; arm in arm, smiling for the camera. Pleased; she offers him a warm smile and reaches across the desk for his container. It follows hers as she comments, "You've already got your pictures out."

He flashes his best flyboy grin. "First thing I did when I got here. Gotta have pictures of my girls."

Mac smirks playfully, "Your girls huh?" and then something in her mood shifts slightly and she becomes solemn for a moment as he nods in reply.

He guesses at the path that her thoughts have taken. "Harriet's supposed to be at the opening right? We're still going to ask her; aren't we?

Mac nods. "Don't be disappointed if she says no, or that she needs time to think about it. It's a big deal Harm."

"Hey, you really think I don't know that?"

"You do, but not on the same level she does. She told me about each one of her pregnancies in detail; how each one was uniquely magical and miserable, all at the same time. We'll be asking her to do it all again, only, when it's over, she won't get to keep the baby; that's if it even works."

He takes her outstretched hand and guides her around the corner of the desk and then further on to his office door where he pulls her close for a moment. "It'll all work out Mac. No matter what Harriet says. Before you know it, there'll be four pictures on the corner of my desk; maybe another little girl, maybe a boy. I'm good either way… Though… It would be nice not to be so wildly outnumbered by the women in my life. But no matter what, Laura's going to make a great cousin/big sister." He chuckles. "I can just see it! Hopefully, we can convince her to wait until the kid has teeth before she tries to teach him or her how eat pizza with everything on it; including jalapenos!"


	17. It's More Contagious than the Flu

**Chapter 17 **It's More Contagious Than The Flu

Thursday, October 30, 2007

* * *

Mac gets out of her Jeep laughing. A new Halloween decoration has made its way to her front yard. A disheveled looking witch has, most unfortunately, crashed headlong into a tree in her front yard. Somewhat flattened by the impact, the hag, who looks remarkably like Kathy Najimy in the movie Hocus Pocus, precariously dangles mid air; a one handed grip on the end of her broom which has 'impaled' Mac's favorite tree.

Before she even makes it to the top porch step, Mac hears quiet laughter and relaxed conversation coming from inside her house via the open living room window. She also detects the hearty aroma of chili simmering on the stove along with the fragrance of something warm and sweet that triggers the thought of Christmas but even before she manages to step inside she reassesses and changes her mind Christmas isn't quite right.

"I'm home." She announces, opening the front door without the need for her keys.

"Hello darling." Trish calls out merrily as Frank greets her with "Welcome home. You beat that stepson of mine. He's not home yet."

Leaving her purse and keys on top of the credenza to the left of the front door; she shrugs out of her uniform jacket and tosses it over the back of Harm's favorite chair before making her way into the kitchen where she joins them. "Doesn't surprise me Frank. It's his first day; he may be a while yet. There's never a shortage of things to do when you arrive at a new station." Mac looks around the room in wonder. Nearly every available inch of counter space, not that there's much of it, in her small kitchen is in use at the moment. "What is all this? And what do I smell? It's not pumpkin pie, but it's something close to it. And where is Laura?"

"Good nose." Frank chuckles. "It smells just like pumpkin pie to me, but it's homemade pumpkin flavored coffee creamer; pureed pumpkin and condensed milk along with a few spices. New recipe, Trish is experimenting."

"Laura's in the bathroom. I sent her to wash up and change her clothes before dinner. She was just a little bit sticky." Trish supplies and then continues, 'all this' is Halloween preparation. She points to the middle section of the breakfast bar. "You can't have Halloween without a haunted house."

Mac moves closer for a better inspection, leans over the tiny, somewhat atypical, model of a ramshackle house, and inhales deeply. "Is that gingerbread?"

Trish nods. "It is."

"Well, no wonder I thought I smelled Christmas all the way out on the front walk; pumpkin puree and gingerbread…"

"It's just a variation of the Christmas gingerbread house; same principle. The kit comes with Halloween instead of Christmas decorations. I bake, Frank constructs the actual house, because getting the icing to set just right, and getting the walls to stand just so while you do it can be difficult for small hands to manage, then Laura gets to decorate it… Anyway she chooses." Trish adds the last part as a playful challenge, looking pointedly at her husband.

"I thought I detected Laura's particular panache." Mac chuckles. "Whoever heard of a neon colored haunted house?"

"See." Frank grins merrily at his wife. It's not just me. Honey, haunted houses should at least look spooky. That thing looks like something a Care Bear, or maybe a Smurf, would live in."

"Oh hush Frank! She's a little girl… and if she wants a neon orange haunted house with a neon pink roof… Well, you just let her have it!"

Mac chimes in too; quickly putting a finger to her lips. "Shhh... Frank, I hate to tell you this, but Laura hates the smurfs! She'd be highly offended if she heard you say that."

Rather comically, Frank holds up his hands as if warding off an assault. "Okay…okay! I know when I'm beat!" As an afterthought he raises an eyebrow and asks, "What's wrong with the smurfs?"

"I think they insult her intelligence. Her friend Liam likes to watch the smurf movie. Every time one of the smurfs is trying to explain something that Hollywood movie types and TV producers have decided kids ought to know, Laura rolls her eyes and starts talking to the TV. 'Duh, I may be a kid but I'm not a dumb kid!"

He smiles proudly. "Sounds like something she'd say."

Mac moves on to the next project. "What's with all the pumpkins? She asks, counting the ones next to the sink as well as the one situated in front of Frank.

Trish eyes her as if she's asked an odd question. "Darling who ever heard of Halloween without a jack-o-lantern?"

Mac nods. "Yeah, 'A' jack-o-lantern; as in one. Trish, there are enough pumpkins here for five; and now they make the cute little ones that you can just plug in. It's a whole lot easier."

"You girls are just… Deprived… That's what you are." Trish declares with mild exasperation. I know I probably went a little overboard, but I was talking to Laura about it when I picked her up from school this afternoon. Do you know, she's never carved a pumpkin before today? I know she's too little to do it by herself, but that's just… Wrong! Somebody should have helped her do this by now. Harm had a blast making an ungodly mess with his first pumpkin. His poor grandmother was probably washing pumpkin guts off her kitchen walls for a week. She said it was best to do it outside." Trish smiles with the tender note of recollection in her voice, "but it was too cold that year. She was more worried about keeping him warm and healthy than whatever damage he would do indoors."

"How old was he?" Mac asks already picturing what an 'ungodly' mess might look like.

"He'd just turned three. I tried to tell Sarah that he was too young, that all he was going to do was make a mess. She waved me off, informing me, with complete certainty, how that was 3/4 of the fun."

As Trish talks, Mac crosses to the section of countertop beside the kitchen sink to examine the pumpkins that have already been carved.

Frank leaves his seat at the bar and moves near as she smiles at one with the traditional jack-o-lantern face.

"I thought the old standard might be easiest for her. I had to get the carving knife started for her, but she did a good bit of it herself. She helped me with the spider too; he points to the largest of the pumpkins and the fat tarantula carved there."

Mac can't decide whether to wrinkle her nose in disgust or stare in wonder. "You're good at this Frank. I'm not a fan of big hairy spiders, but they make nice pumpkin carvings. Mac giggles in delight when she sees the next carving. "Oh Frank; it's Snoopy! Laura loves Snoopy."

"Yes, we know!" Trish laughs. "I bought a stencil for that one. Frank did it for her and she sat very still and very quiet and watched every second of it; mesmerized by the process."

Mac spins the fourth pumpkin around wondering what image she will find there and is surprised instead by block lettering and the words, 'Go Navy.' She groans theatrically. Frank, I just want you to know, if Harm forms some sort of unnatural attachment to this pumpkin and refuses to throw it out next week, I'm going to blame you!"

He shrugs good naturedly. "Does that mean you don't want this one?" He asks, crooking his finger in a come hither fashion. "Trish and I usually have some kind of Navy related carving on our front walk, so I'm use to those, but this one is a new endeavor." He returns to his seat and carefully rotates the one unfinished pumpkin; putting it on display for her. He's taken more than a bit by surprise when she steps around the end of the bar and kisses his cheek. Even though his work is not yet complete, when it is, the script style carving will read 'Semper Fi.'

"That's the best Halloween pumpkin I've ever laid eyes on! Thank you!"

Frank pats her arm as she hugs him from behind and he smiles at his wife. "She's far too easy to please."

Mac laughs, "Maybe I am, but this is only the third time in my life that someone has carved a pumpkin for me. Uncle Matt did the first two. I think I was eight the first time."

"Eight!" Trish exclaims; shaking her head in dismay. "You missed out on a lot of fun."

Mac shrugs and changes the subject. "Doesn't sound as though Harm did. I don't suppose you got pictures of that first pumpkin carving?"

"Oh God; I wish! You should have seen the look on his face Mac! Sarah cut the top off and told him to help her clean the pumpkin out. The first time he stuck his hand inside he made the ugliest face; didn't care for the way it felt at all! He pulled his hand back out and she tried to coax him; sweet talk him into putting it back in there. I think it took about 15 minutes. We kept telling him it would be alright, but he would have none of it; just kept shaking his little head 'no.' We were just about ready to throw in the towel, so much for pumpkin carving, when Sarah had to go and answer the ringing doorbell, and I moved the carving knife to a safe place while I went to answer the ringing phone. I was only gone maybe 60 seconds, but while I was gone he decided to get over his revulsion. I came back to find him standing smack in the center of Sarah's kitchen table, covered head to toe in pumpkin guts and laughing like a loon. Well, I started with Harmon Rabb Jr.! But that was as far as I got. He looked at me, smiled and said, "Trick or treat Mama!" And oh how I tried not to laugh. I swear I did; bit my lower lip until I thought for sure it would bleed, but just as the urge was starting to subside, Sarah returned, took one look at her grandson standing there covered in goop and burst out laughing! I lost the battle! We stood there hugging each other and laughing until my son joined in and started jumping up and down on the kitchen table; scattering pumpkin innards everywhere!"

Mac doubles over as laugher bubbles out of her, and soon enough she has to lean against a bar stool for support when her knees start to shake.

Several seconds later they hear the toilet flush, signifying Laura's imminent return; and when the bathroom door opens too quickly Mac turns to say something to the girl but can't get the words out between fits of laughter.

Trish, still chuckling herself, steps in for her; calling out to Laura, "Wash your hands please."

"I already did; before I changed."

"Do it again please."

The adults wait; listening, straining to hear over Mac's laughter. There's a split second of silence in the bathroom before they all hear the sound of water running in the sink.

When the hand washing is done, Laura joins them with a bewildered expression. "Hi Aunt Mac… What's so funny?"

Mac laughs harder.

Frank scoops the girl up in his arms. "Trish is telling funny stories. She's tickled your aunt's funny bone, and now she can't seem to stop laughing."

As always, laughter is more contagious than the flu, and in very short order Laura's happy giggle is added to the mix even though she has no idea what Mac finds so funny.

Laura, Frank, and Mac do not hear Harm open the front door. They do not see him walk in, but he exchanges a curious smile with his mother and approaches cautiously, not truly certain he wants to disturb whatever fun they're having. As he nears Laura he leans in and whispers, "What's so funny Sweetheart?

Unable to answer, Laura shakes her head and shrugs helplessly.

Mac is on the verge of getting herself under control until she catches sight of Harm. She stops for a moment, gives him a look he can't define, glances at his mother, and then collapses onto a bar stool, rests her head on the countertop in front of her and starts up worse than before.

Helpless to understand, Harm simply stares at her for a long moment before placing a gentle hand on her back; both in greeting and in an effort to steady her. He squints at Trish and asks, "Mom, what have you done to my Marine?"


	18. Black Tie, Anyone?

**Chapter 18: **Black Tie, Anyone?

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**Author's Note:** Credit for the inspiration for the name of Trish's gallery goes to GibbsFan. I wouldn't have thought of it without you, but I think it's perfect.

Steamboat: What kind soul you are! I just read your review for Crossing the Ocean. Best Harm and Mac wedding ever written? Really? Now I have to go back, read it, and remind myself what was so fabulously wonderful about it. You have my gratitude! However, no one is leaping any tall buildings today; including Mac. Unfortunately, I was involved in a minor fender bender this morning. I'm just fine, but a little stiff. Don't imagine I'll feel like a leaping over anything for a few days… Or be inspired enough to have Mac do it for that matter.

A few points to clear up though with regard to your most recent comments. First, it was only a dress and shoes; no purse.(I remember that much because I remember you teasing me about it before.) Second, all cavities start out invisible to the human eye. They don't stay that way. Given enough time, they do become very visible. No, I have no intention of giving Mac x-ray vision. Given her habit for doing things that she shouldn't do, I'm afraid, if she had it, she would use it irresponsibly. Last, with regard to the hawks in the wedding chapter, Chegwidden was not wrong. The author was wrong! I'll admit freely, I whispered in his ear. He just repeated what he heard. Totally my fault! I will fix it.

Thank you for enlightening me and for making me a better writer! There are so many little factoids to look up, I'm bound to miss one from time to time. Had that little bit of information actually been written by Chegwidden, (Calling him Cheggie just feels unnatural to me.) I'm sure he would've gotten it right. It just strikes me as a sort of thing a man like him would know. God I miss him. Almost more than Harm. He was, and still is, a favorite. Sometime in the near future I shall have to write a piece just for him.

Anyway, many, many, many thanks, and happy Halloween everybody. Eat, drink, and be scary!

* * *

Laura stands quietly and peeks in through the partially open bedroom door. She watches her aunt straighten her uncle's collar, unbutton his second button, and smooth the shoulders of his jacket before the couple exchanges a kiss. Laura smiles. She likes to tease them about this but the truth is she really likes it. It took her a while to figure it out, but Aunt Mac and Uncle Harm aren't like Mom and all her stupid boyfriends. Yeah, they like to kiss and touch; but they aren't embarrassing about it. Every time Mom had a guy over Laura just wanted to run away and hide someplace. They didn't care who saw, and it was gross! This is better; way better!

Laura's thoughts are interrupted when she realizes that her furry companion has come along and is trying to push the bedroom door open wide for her. " Off! Sit! The girl hisses quietly.

Candy does as she's told, but her warm brown eyes say she's confused. All she wanted to do was open the door. That is one of her jobs after all.

"I think somebody's spying on us!" Laura hears her uncle say, but he sounds silly; not mad.

Mac chuckles. "Come in you two." She smiles and waves them in.

"Okay Candy, push."

Laura's sidekick happily springs into action, using her nose and one paw to push the door open entirely. As always, she's a little too eager to do her job, but Laura is aware of this and stays put until after the door rebounds off the wall behind it. Fortunately, it doesn't rebound hard enough to close completely.

Harm shakes his head in amusement and kneels to rub the happy dog behind the ears when she joins them. "I've gotta put some doorstops up before you knock holes in the walls, Girl!"

"She's never made any holes yet. Mostly she just makes a lot of noise; thump, crash, boom, bang… and I wasn't spying… Well, not on purpose!" Laura shakes her head vigorously. "You guys just look so pretty! How come you're all fancy?"

Mac removes something Laura can't quite see from the top of the tall dresser and kneels beside Candy. "First, it would take Uncle Harm less time to put up door stops now, than to patch the holes the door knobs would make later. Not to mention, it would be less work, and Candy likes helping you so much that I don't think we'll get her to be less enthusiastic about it. Second, people dress nicely for gallery openings. It's kind of a tradition. They're usually black tie affairs, especially for evening showings in a place as classy as The Montage."

"Aunt Mac, why is it called that? I don't know what that word means."

" What? Montage?" She waits for her niece to nod. "A montage is a collection of pictures, or sometimes it's the different materials that make up a picture, and those pictures are used to tell a story without words."

Thinking it over, Laura squints for several seconds and then smiles sweetly. "Oh, I get it. 'Cause of all the pretty pictures in the gallery That's cool!"

"You should tell Miss Trish you think so. I'm sure she'd love to know that." Mac straightens the headdress of Laura's costume, because her ears are slightly crooked and kisses the girl's cheek being careful not to smudge the dog whiskers painted on the girl's face. Then, she peels a large yellow sticker off the piece of paper she removed from the top of the dresser and sticks it to the side of Candy's monogrammed hot pink service vest. "There, Mr. Frank said to make sure you got that."

Laura giggles; delighted by the little yellow bird. "It's Woodstock!"

"Frank said Snoopy wouldn't be Snoopy without his faithful sidekick."

Laura smiles brightly for a second and then something shifts and the smile becomes a very serious frown. "What does black tie affair mean?"

"It means that people get dressed up very formally. Attire, or clothing, usually includes black bow ties for the men, and elegant dresses for the ladies."

Laura turns her attention to her uncle. "Uncle Harm's not wearing a bow tie. He's not wearing any tie …but he still looks really pretty."

Mac tries not to giggle at the uncomfortable look on her husband's face. First, women are pretty. Men are handsome. Most of them don't like to be called pretty; it makes them uncomfortable."

Laura makes a face. " I didn't mean to."

"We know baby. It's okay. And Uncle Harm's not going to wear his tie. I said they were usually black tie affairs. This one will be too, but the bow ties are optional… This time."

"How come?"

Well… Chloe is a little more relaxed than that. She wants everyone to look nice for her opening but, she wants them to be comfortable too. Stiff propriety is really not her style; she has a little too much flair for that. Don't be surprised if she shows up tonight wearing something that is somehow understated and bold all at the same time. She's developing quite the habit for embracing contradiction."

Before Laura can ask for a clarification Harm chuckles. Developing? I think 'has developed' would be more appropriate… has fully developed."

Suddenly Laura looks a little uncertain.

"Hey, what's wrong Sweetheart."

Laura looks first at her uncle, and then at her costume. "Miss Trish told me to wear my costume. She didn't say it to wear a pretty dress. Is this right?"

"If she told you to wear your costume, then that's what you should wear. It's okay."

"Are you sure? It's not very fancy."

"I'm sure. It's okay." Harm pats her shoulder.

Mac interjects, "And Snoopy's black and white. Two very proper colors for a formal gathering."

Laura's still looks mildly concerned.

"Hmm." Harm says and holds up a finger indicating that they should wait just a moment. "I think I know what will help. He's snags his bow tie from the top of his dresser and kneels before Laura. "Here, I'm only too happy to let you be the one to wear this."

She giggles while he adjusts it to fit her smaller neck and then proceeds to fumble with the tying. "Hold still Ace; don't wiggle!"

"Why'd you call me Ace?"

"Snoopy's alter ego was the World War I Flying Ace and his arch nemesis was the Red Baron. They were always trying to shoot each other down. Well… except for on Christmas Day. On Christmas Day they called a ceasefire."

Mac looks on with pride, in both the girl and the man. She remembers watching Charlie Brown specials as a child. Silently she thinks, 'I forgot all about that. Harm would be the one to remember.'

Harm gently pokes his niece in the belly. "I said don't wiggle. I'll never get this right if you don't hold still."

The Marine decides to take charge before they're all late. She playfully nudges Harm aside. "First Harm, she's a six year old girl. It's almost genetically impossible for her not to wiggle. Second, you're not helping her any when you poke her belly. She's not the Pillsbury doughboy! And third, why is it that men never learn how to do this?"

" Simple! If we did, we wouldn't have a legitimate excuse to get women to do it for us, and we like being that close to you."

Making sure the bow tie is straight and tight; but not too tight, Mac smiles at her niece. "Well… At least he's honest, and you look very stylish! Now…" She turns to look through the big picture window in their cozy bedroom that overlooks the ocean. "It's dark outside; does Candy have the right vest on." Mac checks to make sure the dog is wearing one of her vests which has reflective material that will shine brilliant white in the path of oncoming headlights. A big black dog can go easily unseen after dark; especially if she gets away from her pack.

Laura nods enthusiastically. "I put her pet blinker on her collar too."

"So I see." Mac switches the device on. "But don't forget to turn it off inside the gallery, okay? Some people find blinking lights unsettling. And we should take extra treats for her tonight. The crowd at the gallery will naturally encourage her to misbehave. She'll get just as much attention as Chloe's photographs will. Let's hope she doesn't do anything that gets her more than the artwork."

"I've already got them." Laura whispers and pats the treat pouch attached to her walker. "But don't tell Candy. Her whole head will be in there. Uncle Harm's got some in his pockets too!" Laura bobs her chin in enthusiasm.

Rising to her full height, Mac feels the gentle pressure of Harm's hand at her elbow and offers him a sweet smile of gratitude before announcing, "Alright, unless you two are aiming to be fashionably late, then family, we'd better march!"

* * *

**Author's Note: **Don't fret dear readers. I know. I know. You want more! More is coming and I promise you shall have it when you wake tomorrow morning. For now, I need a break. I need food - the kind that feeds the body, not the muse. Although that kind is good too, and always appreciated. Also, my faithful four pawed companion needs a walk. We shall return shortly and the story will continue. I just thought y'all might enjoy this much to tide you over.


	19. A Grand Opening

**Chapter 19: A Grand Opening **

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**Author's Note:** I knew this chapter was going to take a lot from me, and I was right! It took a great deal more than even I thought it would. I've gone through several drafts, and a half box of Kleenex too, but I think I'm finally happy with it. I hope you like it too.

* * *

Harm opens the door that is discreetly marked 'Personnel Only' and, with curiosity, pokes his head inside. "So this is where everybody got to." He flashes his flyboy grin and jokes, "Is this a member's only party or can we join you?"

"Get in here!" Harriet commands merrily over the rim of her glass of Riesling. Harm snaps off a stiff salute before he ushers Mac inside, his hand warm against the exposed flesh at the small of her back.

Skates offers them both a welcoming smile from her perch on the arm of the gallery owner's sofa. "We're just visiting. We've all done the walk through two or three times over. The photos are just as breathtaking, just as glorious, as they were the first time I saw them; maybe even more so and none of us are ready to leave yet, but we've all had our fill of the crowd. Mrs. Burnett graciously allowed us to invade her office."

On her way to the door that Harm and Mac just entered, Trish says breezily, "Oh please, it's just Trish, remember… and invade away darling. Trust me there have been far less charming people in this office." She departs with purpose in her pace; the stride of a hostess who not only knows where she's going, but also which route is the most expedient. She pauses only long enough to kiss her son's cheek and offer Mac's hand a gentle squeeze. "You look gorgeous!" She says discreetly and then she is gone.

Keeter informs his old friend, "That's the fifth time in twenty minutes she's been in here Harm, but she's never here for more than 30 seconds. Does she always move this fast? I don't remember her moving this fast."

"Only when she's hosting an opening." Frank supplies the answer from the wingback chair behind his wife's desk. "She'll make it look effortless, and she'll never complain, but she'll sleep till after nine tomorrow morning; her one concession. Any other day, she's up by 6:30 at the latest; including Sundays."

"I'd sleep longer than that if I were her." Harriet chimes in again. "Did you guys catch that little old blue- blooded couple? Petite little slip of a woman, hair as white as cotton and her octogenarian husband who still looks like he belongs on the cover of GQ. They came in here with a ferret in her handbag? Imagine… Bringing a rodent into this place! And Harm, your mother never lost her cool. I swear, she didn't even blink."

"It was kind of cute, I guess." Laura pipes up from her place in Frank's lap. She giggles conspiratorially, "I think Candy wanted to eat it!"

Upon hearing her name, Candy lifts her head off the floor and looks to her young mistress; alert for some other word she might recognize. She thumps her tail once against the side of the antique desk, but when she doesn't hear a request or command she recognizes, she returns her head to the floor and continues her nap.

"Laura sweetie, just between you and me, I would've let Candy chase the thing right out of here, but I was very impressed with the way she behaved. She wanted to go after it, that much was obvious, but she didn't so much as bark." Harriet declares with admiration for the little girl's buddy.

"Harriett, where is Bud tonight?" Mac inquires as she perches on the unoccupied arm of the sofa next to the blonde and hugs her in greeting.

"He's at home in DC with the kids."

"She's free and single tonight!" Keeter announces with a teasing wink.

Mildly caught off-guard, Harriet chortles and very carefully lowers her glass to her lap so as to avoid spilling it. "Somehow, I think my husband might disagree with that statement, but I will say this; I haven't had to say the words, 'No!" or 'Stop that!' or 'Don't touch that!" in over six hours and forty minutes. I haven't had to wipe a runny nose or tie anyone's shoes but my own. I'm not quite sure what to do with myself at times, but I'm determined to make the most of it while it lasts!" She tilts her head toward her nearly empty glass of white wine.

"And, how many does that make?" Harm chuckles, even though he can see she's still well in control.

Harriet's blue eyes dance merrily. "Gee, I don't know. I'm not counting tonight… Dad!"

Mac grins at the easy banter between the two old friends. "Enjoy your night off Harriet. You have a hotel room nearby?"

When she nods in response, Harm replies for Mac. "When you're ready to leave, we'll drive you."

When Mac nods adamantly in agreement, Harriet shakes her head and teases, "After just two months of marriage, they're already finishing each other's sentences. Thirty years from now we won't be able to stand them!"

Unaware that Chloe has arrived and is standing in the open doorway watching the frivolities through the lens of one of her favorite cameras, they are each mildly surprised when she quietly snaps a candid shot of the group and then declares happily, "Oh please, they've been doing that for 11 years already. The only reason that you almost never noticed it is because before they were married, they spent most of their time arguing with each other!" She quick steps into the room and exchanges a warm enthusiastic hug with Mac. "I've hardly gotten a chance to say hello tonight. Everybody keeps pulling me away!" She declares with excitement; stretching up on tiptoe to kiss Harm's cheek and dropping a light playful one on Laura's before she's even through speaking.

"Well of course they're pulling you away!" Mac says proudly, "They all want their own personal five minutes alone with the artist."

"I know, right? It's so weird! Chloe says with her own unique mix of confidence and shyness. "I just like to take pretty pictures; that's all. When Trish asked me to do this, I thought it was a kick just being asked. I mean I haven't even graduated yet. I figured, even if she didn't sell one picture, it would still be amazing… Something cool to put on a resume!"

At precisely that moment, Trish breezes in again. "Chloe darling, I'm not selling anything. Your work sells itself! I'm simply providing you with a venue. Take a 15 minute break, then touch up your lip gloss and get back out there… Mingle and charm them. The masses await!"

Keeter points to the camera on the strap around Chloe's neck. "I think it's safe to put the thing down for one night kid, I'm no art critic but judging from what I've seen, you've earned it."

Chloe waves the comment aside; "This?" She holds up the camera and the shutter clicks rapid fire style, focused on Jack Keeter's face. "This thing is more important than my smart phone."

Harm chuckles. "That's quite the statement, coming from a 19 year old college student! Every time I see a teenager today, their staring at their phones, thumbs texting away. It's a wonder they don't walk into lamp posts… or anything else for that matter. None of them watch where they're going!"

Chloe graciously ignores him, refusing to be insulted by the behavior of her own generation, and continues. "This is a worthy appendage. This is my MasterCard… Never leave home without it! I took my first photography class as a way to lessen my boredom with all the other classes. Now it's my incentive to get done with the other classes, so I can move on. I've decided! Next Spring, I want to take scuba diving classes, so that someday, I can take pictures of the Great Barrier Reef!"

Trish smiles encouragingly at the girl. "From the arid desert, to life on the ocean floor. Keep dreaming like that, you'll wind up traveling the world, with a job working for National Geographic. Just save the best prints for my gallery." She'd teases with affection.

"It's a deal!" Chloe laughs merrily. The day National Geographic calls, I'll tell 'em… Trish Burnett at the Montage gets first dibs!" The young woman's enthusiastic nod causes her dangling white gold earrings to sway gently. The delicate threads of precious metal are pleasantly flashy without being gaudy, and their simple brilliance is offset by the jacket of the classic black tuxedo she wears.

Mentally, Chloe switches gears just as rapidly as she takes pictures and addresses both Harm and Mac. "You two have got to come back out there, at least one more time. Everybody adores Laura and Candy! Snoopy and her sidekick steal the show! Her thoughts are momentarily sidetracked yet again and put on hold as Laura giggles while munching on a celery stick stuffed with cream cheese. "Kid! What are you eating now?"

Mouth full, and a large paper napkin spread over both her and Frank's laps, Laura holds up her snack, putting it on display. When she can, she says "Miss Trish says no more candy. No more sugar. She says if I eat anymore Halloween treats, I'm never going to go to sleep again!" Laura giggles, feeling the effects of her sugar rush.

Chloe stares at Mac incredulously. "I know she's your niece, and that counts for a lot of it, but come on! Look at her; she's tiny! Where does she put it?"

Mac raises an eyebrow. "This coming from the once eleven year old girl who sat on my sofa and ate half of a large pizza, an entire bucket of chicken, and then asked for both popcorn and S'mores for a movie snack?"

Undaunted, Chloe counters, "Yeah, but I was eleven and trying to self-engineer a growth spurt; attempting to grow out of my geeky little kid body. Laura's got at least five more years before it stops being cool to be adorable!"

Mac rolls her eyes. "Little Sister, you were not geeky!"

"Says you!" Chloe smiles at the use of the old familiar nickname, and laughs over her own discomfort before she changes the subject back to the topic she's more content with. "Anyway, I was about to say, I'm sure it's probably annoying having people point, stare, and whisper, but the crowd loves seeing that life size portrait of the two of you in the exhibit and then turning to see you in person. Half the women are drooling over Harm; the men, over Mac, and I heard one of them openly declare that it has to be illegal for a married woman to look so good in a backless little black dress!" She giggles. "I'm not sure if you're aware of this either, but there's a couple of bored middle aged housewives out there who probably spend their days watching soap operas based on the kinds of things I've heard them say. They're amusing themselves by planning your entire future! The last time I walked past them, I think they were up to Baby Rabb number five!"

Chloe doesn't fully comprehend, or even realize the sudden pained groan that escapes Mac, or the immediate look of concern in Harm's eyes as she, Skates, Keeter, and Harriett all laugh.

"I'd be in favor of that." Harriet declares warmly. "My bunch needs a brood of cousins that can keep up with them, rival them, give them a run for their money!"

"Well… I don't know if they'd move passed the 'planning' stage onto 'expecting' stage or not, but a certain little girl told me not too long ago that they went to the doctor To talk about how to make a baby." Keeter supplies; winking at Laura. "For all I know, Baby Rabb number one could already be on its way."

The untimely hush that falls over half the room leads Elizabeth Hawkes to turn her full attention to her married friends. When she realizes that they aren't exactly glowing, she reaches out and discreetly gives her date's bicep a very hard pinch.

Startled by the sudden spark of pain, he glares at her for an instant and rubs the stinging spot on his arm until he too realizes the unnatural silence emanating from his momentarily speechless friends. He glances first at their faces, and then notices the solemn look on Trish's face. He tries, but doesn't quite manage, not to actually cringe. He doesn't know exactly where he went wrong, but he knows undeniably that he has 'stepped in it' once again.

Harriet catches on a half second before Chloe and the two of them take turns looking at each other, at Harm and Mac, at Skates and Keeter, and then finally at Frank and Trish before Chloe asks, "What?"

Harriet watches both Harm and Mac struggle to form the right words, and after a very heavy pause, anticipation and agitation get the better of her and she demands, "Well, for Heaven's sake, somebody stays something… Anything!"

Mac reaches for Harm's hand and finds it waiting for hers. They lace fingers and she opens her mouth to speak then closes it again. Harm inches closer and wraps his free arm around her shoulders. He shakes his head slightly and clears his throat. "Sorry…uh…. We hadn't really planned on talking about this here tonight. We don't mean to make you all uncomfortable… Keeter, you're coming in a little high buddy."

Chloe looks a little uncertain when she asks, "Does that mean not yet… but you're planning?"

Harm starts again. "It means… That it's not going to be easy. We're going to…"

"It means they need some help." Laura states the simple fact very plainly; very easily. "They need a surrogate."

The four adults who were previously unaware turn their gazes to Laura; surprised that such information could come from one so small. They watch as she returns her uncle's smile and Mac motions for the girl to come and join them. They watch Laura slide from Frank's lap and cross the room slowly to join the couple waiting there.

As his initial moment of shock begins to fade, Keeter speaks again asking, "Which one of you?" He's quick to step beyond arm's length when Skates moves to pinch him yet again.

Catching this in his peripheral vision, Harm chuckles. "Easy Beth. Don't give him too many bruises. It's a perfectly legitimate question."

Conversations she's had in the past with Mac return to the forefront of Harriet's mind and she smiles sadly; putting an arm around her friend as Laura climbs into her aunt's lap. "I thought you had more time?" She asks quietly.

Unable to fully return the embrace because both hands are occupied, Mac leans into her friend's embrace affectionately. "The last time you and I talked about this was three years ago Harriet. Time's run out."

Harriett shakes her head, mystified. "No, it hasn't been three ye…" She trails off as the pages of the calendar years turn over in her mind. Suddenly filled with shame, Harriet covers her mouth. "I'm so sorry! I didn't realize… So much time had gone... I didn't mean to laugh."

Mac shakes her head. "It's okay Harriett. You were just caught up in a moment."

The blonde shakes her head miserably; her eyes pleading. "I didn't mean to be cruel."

"Harriett! Stop it! Right now! You don't have a mean bone in your body; and I know it!"

Somewhat mollified that her friend isn't angry with her for being careless, Harriett relaxes slightly and tightens the arm she has around Mac's waist. "So, what are you going to do now?"

"Well, we should really talk about that later. I hardly think this is the time or the place. We don't want to make everyone uncomfortable. Like Harm said, we weren't planning on discussing this tonight… And certainly not here."

Chloe gets up from her perch against the corner of Trish's desk and closes the office door. "Never mind that, we're all family here, and I want to know what you're going to do."

Mac smiles with warm appreciation. "Thank you sweet girl, but sometime within the next five minutes, ten tops, you and Trish both need to get back out there. Tonight is your big night. That's your opening out there!"

Chloe shakes her head stubbornly. "Trish has employees. The whole shebang won't come to a grinding halt within the next ten minutes, and you're more important to me that all the photographs I could possibly take in my entire lifetime. I took the pictures, I've showed up, I've chatted, I've mingled, I've schmoozed, and I'll do it all again soon enough. If those people out there can't get along without me for ten minutes more; then who needs them!"

Mac catches sight of a slight nod of approval from Trish as well as a bemused smile that the woman tries unsuccessfully to hide. Next Harriett begins to nod enthusiastically; and Mac's not certain if it's a genuine desire to know, or if it's so they simply won't feel like the odd ones out, but in fairly short order, Keeter and Skates are nodding their encouragement as well.

Harm sighs audibly. Shaking his head, he runs the fingers of one hand through his hair. "Okay, but if you all decide later that you wish we'd done this differently, just remember… we tried." He flashes Mac an uncomfortable but willing smile. "No time like the present?"

Mac tightens her grip on Harm's hand and jumps in with both feet; wishing that her stomach wasn't suddenly full of butterflies with manic wings. "Well, we could adopt, and we will if we have to, but Harm and I want very much to have a child that is biologically our own. We may still have that option. I've had some test run, my ovaries are still functioning normally, which means that, as far as we can tell, my eggs are fine. However, without going into too many of the unpleasant details, since the last time you and I talked about it Harriett, my uterus has lost its elasticity. It won't accommodate a growing child."

After having given birth five times, Harriet has more than enough comprehension of what Mac is saying. After having discussed her friend's condition in detail those three years ago, she also has a very good comprehension of what Mac isn't saying. "It would be so dangerous for you." She lends voice to the thought as the reality sets in.

Mac nods. "For me, conception will be a mere millimeter away from impossible; even with medical help. And the odds of sustaining the pregnancy, if it even occurred… Harm and I don't want to take that chance. We can't. We have Laura to think about already." Mac hugs the girl to her chest affectionately. So, as Laura said, if the child is to be ours biologically, then we will need a surrogate."

Harriet's eyes go wide. "I can't even imagine." She breathes heavily. I know there are women who are paid to do that, but I don't care how much you pay them. I can't imagine what it would be like to trust a complete stranger to nurture, carry, and give birth to a child for me."

"It's more daunting, and sometimes outright frightening, than Harm and I can express with words. That's why we're hoping we won't have to go that way. Even the doctors recommend choosing a trusted friend if that's at all possible..." Mac stops at a loss for how to continue.

Harm steps in. "We were hoping that you and Bud would be here together and we certainly had no intention of doing this with an audience. We know there would be some significant obstacles to overcome, but Sarah and I have given this a lot of thought and, of all our friends, there's no one more suitable; there's no one we trust more than we trust you Harriett… And we'd like to know if you will just consider doing this for us."

The room, and everyone in it, is completely still. For what seems an interminable moment, no one moves. No one speaks. No one breathes. Harm, Mac, and everyone else present, watches the myriad of reactions and emotions that play across Harriet's pretty face; shock, disbelief, uncertainty, fear, confusion, love, joy, doubt, and several others they can't quite give a name to. It's all there; mixed up and tumbling around together.

Everyone waits, and when the typically bubbly blonde says nothing, everyone waits some more.

They all wait. They wait until Mac can stand the silence no longer. She lets go of Harm's hand and passes Laura over to him. She turns to face her friend as best she can from her place on the arm of the sofa and reaches for Harriet's hand. She offers quietly, "We aren't asking you to say yes or no this very moment. We just want to know if you'll think about it. We know it's… Colossal… Unfathomable… Un…"

Harriett gently places the fingers of one hand against Mac's mouth. "Shh."

They all watch in wonder, none more so than Mac, as tears began to stream freely down Harriet's face.

For a moment, Mac misinterprets the reason for the tears and begins to shake her head. "Harriett, it's okay. You don't have to cry. It'll be okay." Mac laughs nervously as she tries to choke back the emotion rising in her own voice. She's not sure what she expected, but this was not it, and she's both surprised and confused when Harriett shushes her for the second time. She makes eye contact with Harm to see if he understands any better than she does.

Harm shrugs, just as much at a loss as his wife is. He kneels before the two friends sitting so near one another. He sets Laura gently on her feet.

Unsure what to do with the tense moment; she's not even sure if it's good or bad, Laura quietly returns to the safety of Frank's lap. Once there, the little girl also reaches for Trish's hand. In response, Trish moves on silent feet until she is standing near enough to hug both of them at the same time.

" Harriett?" Harm gently brushes a tear from her cheek.

His simple touch finally restores her ability to form actual words, but neither of her friends is prepared for the words that do come. "Thank you."

Harm and Mac exchange another curious glance; infinitely more confused than before. Maybe their hearing is going. Mac squints. "What did you say Harriett?"

Until now, their friend has been as still as a stone, but now she finally moves; brushing tears off of her face with enthusiasm before taking one of each of their hands. She draws in a great breath and lets it out slowly. "I said thank you!" She laughs happily as new tears began to flow. "Just to know that you trust me enough to ask… It's… I can't tell you how much that means to me!" She pulls them both into a fierce hug and clings to them tightly for another long moment. When she finally lets go she says, "I'm a little…" She laughs; excited, happy, nervous and scared. "I don't know what to say first. I can't make a decision like this without asking a ton of questions. I don't know which one to ask first! Is it okay if I say… Yes, I promise to consider it… and… Maybe?"

Nodding, as if to confirm her own words, Harriet gestures excitedly with her hands and then attempts to make a clarification. "I don't mean maybe I'll consider it. I mean maybe I'll…"

Harm takes both of her hands in his and holds them gently; trying to still them. "We understand Harriet… And yes…" Mac adds on with a smile. "It's okay to say maybe."

Harriet falls silent once more. After several seconds she squints thoughtfully and then asks, "What happens first if I say yes?"

Getting the sense that it's finally alright to move again, to breathe again, several people in the room, including Mac, chuckle as she answers, "Well, before you even say yes, there will be a physical exam and tests to make sure that you're medically suitable. Even if you are medically suitable, you'll be free to decline at any point prior to the transplant; obviously, but Harriett, you're getting a little ahead of yourself. The very first step, no matter what; yes or no, is for you to go home and talk to Bud. It has to be okay with both of you; even just for the preliminary tests. There's a risk with any pregnancy. The circumstances it occurs under don't change that. We shouldn't even talk about anything else until you take that first step. Whether you do this for us or not, it's …monumental. Harm and I think it would be best if we try to keep things as simple as possible for as long as possible. "For now, just talk to Bud. If you decide you're both on board, just for the initial tests… We'll worry about what comes next after that."

Harriet goes still and quiet again for several more seconds before she finally nods eagerly. "Just talk to Bud.… Okay… I can do that!"

Mac and Harm exchange a hopeful smile and hug Harriett tightly before he rises to his full height. " Great! Now that we've done that, what do you all say we walk Chloe back out to the gallery floor for another go around?"


	20. Sleepless

**Chapter 20: Sleepless **

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**Author's Note:** There's more coming, but I'm not sure I'll get around to posting it before y'all turn in tonight. I thought, as I have, that you might enjoy the warm fuzzies before calling it an evening. If you do not hear more from me tonight, blessed be, and sleep well my friends.

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Friday, October 31, 2007

2347 HRS

La Jolla

"Well, I wasn't expecting that tonight!" Frank says with a sigh of post-connubial contentment. As his wife shifts position and settles beside him under the quilt, he drapes an arm around her shoulders, keeping her close, and strokes the back of the hand that comes to rest softly against his chest.

He hears the smile that accompanies her quiet words when she says simply, "I'm in a good mood."

He laughs and gives her an affectionate squeeze. "So I noticed…" He says with feeling. "But you're also exhausted."

He feels her shrug. "The second doesn't always negate the first."

"Apparently not!"

They fall into a companionable silence and remain that way for so long that he assumes she's asleep. Nearly there himself, the rhythmic even tempo of her breathing is the soporific, gently lapping tide that finally begins to lull him away from consciousness. Thus, his name is a warm surprise when she speaks again; her voice soft and hazy in their darkened bedroom. "Frank?"

"Hmm."

"Do you think Harriet will?"

"D'on know… Maybe. Certainly flattered by the request.

Trish smiles and yawns. "She was. Wasn't she?"

"What's your feeling 'bout it?" He asks, knowing that, of the two of them, she has the more accurate barometer for measuring human behavior.

She lifts her head off his shoulder momentarily; coming awake just a little with the effort of genuine contemplation. "Hard to say. Depends on which angle she looks if at it from; either, before parenthood, or after."

"Huh? What's the difference?" He murmurs.

"The difference… She pats his chest. "Is like night and day. I can't even imagine what it must be like to have somebody ask the question Harm and Mac asked her tonight… But here's what I am certain of. I'm convinced that if it weren't for ignorance and biological imperative, the human race would die out completely. If it weren't for those two things none of us would have our own children… much less anyone else's."

Frank squints in the darkness. "Really don't think so?"

She shakes her head adamantly. "If women knew at the beginning of their first pregnancy what they know by the end of that same pregnancy… It would push ignorance right out the window. Half of us would probably choose not to be mothers right then and there. Lust, and survival of the species catches the rest of us with our pants down"

"Literally!" He chuckles sleepily.

"Pregnancy was the one and only time I ever truly regretted growing up without my mother. She was gone so early that it's all I remember knowing. That, and Dad worked so hard to fill her shoes. He was scared that without her, left alone with him, I'd grow up a dirty faced, wild haired tomboy. He'd say, 'Girls aren't supposed to be like that. You're supposed to look pretty, wear dresses, and smell sweet. I don't want to mess you up Trish.' So, when I was a teenager, he'd take me to the department store, find a corner, stand there, and look utterly miserable the whole time I was shopping; but the point is, he would take me to do anything he thought mothers did with their daughters; no matter how awkward it made him feel. So, my mother not being there felt natural to me. Then, the doctor announced Harm's impending arrival… And suddenly I was scared witless! If it hadn't been for Sarah, I would have lost my mind! I was petrified. Labor and delivery was one thing, but mostly I was scared I would royally screw him up. No matter how many questions I asked her before he was born, she'd always say, 'As long as the little one cries, everything else will be fine. A quiet newborn is not a good thing!' Then, he was born and everything shifted. It took him a few seconds to cry and no woman alive really knows fear until she's lying there, beyond exhaustion, waiting, praying, for that sound. Before that moment, I was determined, no matter what, I was never, ever doing that again! Not for myself, not for Harmon, not for anything, and there certainly was no way on Earth I would have done that for anyone else… then he cried. That sound… Some people feel it earlier, but I wasn't a parent until that moment. Until then, I would have thought it mentally, emotionally and physically impossible to even contemplate carrying much less delivering anyone else's child. But afterward… Well, if Harriet does do it; that sound will be one of the reasons why. No one who wants to be a parent should ever be deprived of that moment. That sound… Frank, it has no equal.

Her momentary lapse into silence is nothing short of reverent, but then she yawns warily, returning to that middle distance place somewhere between sleeping and waking. It has been a long day for her, even without the emotions stirred by the events of their evening. "I know it's selfish of me Frank, but I don't want my son and his wife to miss out on that. It's so hard not to hope she will."

He strokes the back of her hand again; enjoying its soft familiar feel. "Time will tell honey, time will tell. Sleep now."


	21. Sleepless II

**Chapter 21: Sleepless II **

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**Author's Note:** Because I had such a long break from writing, it's taken awhile to get this far into the story so some of you may need a brief reminder. Skates is in town tending to a sick relative. For more information, I'll direct you back to chapter six which, story wise, only occurred four days ago.

Steamboat: You and Linus weren't the only ones disappointed again this year. The Great Pumpkin didn't show up in my patch either.

Annie; With regard to Trish's mother; yes, new development. I don't even remember calling that into existence. I must've been really deep into the writing zone. It is my habit to write until I need a break, and then walk away to do something else for awhile. Upon returning to my desk, I always proofread what was previously written. When I proofed that particular section of the chapter it was even a surprise to me… But there it is in black and white.

JAG'ed Bones In The Casket: Many, many, many thanks! Not 'rushing to the yes' is the only option. I have two sisters in this life. One, I share blood with. The second, I share everything but blood with. The first is my sister by birth. The second, I call my sister by providence. They are two of the most stellar women God ever breathed life into, and I would give my life for either of them in a heartbeat. That being said, if either of them ever asks me to carry a child for them; well, that will require some serious thought. If I can't rush the yes for either of them, then how could I possibly tell this story any other way? I just couldn't sell it! So glad you agree!

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Friday, October 31, 2007

2347 HRS

Jack Keeter's New Apartment

Keeter stands with his back to the shower head, letting the hot water run down his body. Steam rises and the bathroom mirror fogs as soap lather circles the shower drain.

After leaving the gallery, he had been driving Hawkes back to her aunt's house when she'd gotten a call. As he drove, he had listened to her end of the conversation. It wasn't anything she said that worried him. In fact, she hadn't said much at all; mostly she'd listened. What worried him was the pinched quality of her voice, as if each one of her few words caused her physical pain. When the brief call ended she said, "Take me to the hospital." and nothing more. He verified which hospital, she confirmed with the nod of her head and they completed the drive in silence. He had offered to walk her in, but she declined patting his knee brusquely before getting out of the car, slamming the door and sprinting for the entrance. With nothing else to do, he had driven home; his mind restless. He flopped on the couch for awhile, but sitting idle really wasn't his thing. Late night television also couldn't hold his interest; not that it ever did.

Three weeks ago he was freezing his six off in Germany. Now he's in California, an old lady he's never met is dying and an old friend of his needs help to have a baby. Neither thing really has anything to do with him, but somehow he finds himself part of the mix anyway. Briefly, he wonders, not for the first time in his life, 'What next?' That's when a faint sound catches his attention. Not sure if he imagined it or if he actually heard it, he opens the shower door and listens hard. Nope, not his imagination. Someone's knocking; quietly at first, and then louder.

"Yeah! Okay! I hear you." He shouts over the sound of the shower. Lifting his chin under the spray, to make sure his hair isn't standing on end; he smoothes it back. The knocking stops momentarily as if whoever is out there has paused to listen, but then starts up again. He shuts off the water, snatches clean terrycloth from the towel rack and hurries through the apartment covering himself and shouting as he goes. "Okay, okay, I'm coming. Power down a second will ya!"

He looks through the peephole, and snatches the door open.

"You must sleep more soundly than the dead!" she complains before fully taking in his appearance. "Oh, my mistake…"

One look and he decides she's tired, disheveled and stressed. The dress she still wears from the gallery opening is badly wrinkled the way clothes often are when you spend too much time sitting on cheap hospital sofas or chairs, and somehow she still manages to look fabulous. Instead of saying so he asks, "How's your aunt?"

"Bad… But too stubborn to die… At least tonight anyway."

"Well… That's good; right?"

"I'm not so sure anymore. I mean, I want her here, but not like this. This is cruel."

"Wanna come in?"

She moves forward and the corners of her mouth start to lift in a feeble smile of gratitude. He steps to one side and she ducks under the arm holding the door open for her. As she slips passed he watches the cloud of pain in her eyes dissipate slightly when the scent of soap and a clean male body ignite desire in her, but before he has the chance to fully comprehend what's taking place, she turns him 180 degrees and walks him backwards into the wall to the left of his open front door. Her kiss is unexpected and hungry and in the moment he needs to recover from the mild shock and respond, her lips move, finding the sensitive spot over the pulse point in his neck. He hears himself groan before he finds the ability to speak. "Uh…okay." He can't help but grin. "We're …doing this now?"

"Um hmm. Please." She murmurs; her attention still on his neck, but slowly making its way back to his mouth.

Keeter closes his front door with a tad more force than he intended. "Okay, long as you're sure."

* * *

Friday, October 31, 2007

2347 HRS

Rabb Residence

* * *

Harm smiles at the three of them as he enters the master bedroom; making his way to the closet. The air smells faintly of nail polish and acetone; perfume and bubble gum. Mac, Chloe, and Laura are all piled up together on their bed. Mac and Chloe are still dressed in their evening attire whereas Laura has switched to pajamas but each one of them is barefoot. Five minutes ago when he came through Mac and Chloe were at opposite ends of the bed with their feet in each other's laps, each one painting the other's toenails. This time, though they're still in the same general positions, Laura is nestled between the two of them. Chloe works on the girl's toes while Mac shapes her small fingernails with an emery board.

Harm leaves the closet door ajar and listens to the three of them. "Hey Laura? Mind if I raid your candy stash?"

"Uh uh. Go ahead. I got lots. Just don't get my Jelly Bellies; Okay? Except if there's chocolate ones, popcorn, or blueberry. I hate those! You can have 'em."

"Okay kid. Hold still! Don't move; that foot's not dry yet. I'm coming right back to do the other one." Chloe eases off the bed, trying not to jostle Mac as she works. Both feet on the floor she departs the room at a much quicker pace, walking on her heels, in search of the aforementioned stash.

Laura giggles at Chloe's funny walk and calls out happily, "The bag is on my bed!"

Seconds later, they hear Chloe groan theatrically from the other side of the house. "Good God Laura! Your trick or treat bag weighs as much as you do!"

"Na uh!" Laura giggles again.

"Na huh!" Chloe hollers back; being silly. The teenager returns to the master bedroom, still walking on her heels, and holding the straps of a small canvas shoulder bag that is clearly more than 2/3 of the way full in both hands. She pantomimes dragging the bag which bears the screen printed image of a silly faced to Jack O' lantern on one side, and the words, 'It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown,' on the other. Chloe hauls the bag up onto the bed comically; still teasing Laura about its weight and then settles carefully back into her previous spot. "Where'd you get all this loot? And don't tell me the gallery. Somehow I can't picture Miss Trish sending you home with all this." The thought of the woman brings to mind thoughts of her son as well and Chloe glances toward the closet door. "What's he doing in there?" she hisses quietly for only Mac and Laura to hear.

Mac chuckles. "He's changing clothes."

A delicate shade of blush rises in Chloe's cheeks. "Oh God! Does he want me to leave the room?"

Mac reaches out and smacks the girl's knee affectionately. "Harm's fine with it. He's use to be surrounded by girls."

Chloe looks mildly uncertain and continues to whisper. "Girls; yeah okay maybe, but I'm not usually here, camped out in the middle of his bed while he does that."

Mac sets down her emery board and looks toward the closet door. "Hey Harm?"

"Hey Mac." He calls back.

"Want Chloe to step out for a minute?"

He opens the door fully and steps out in jogging pants; pulling a T-shirt down over his middle. "Why?" He raises an eyebrow.

"See. Told you!" Mac grins at Chloe. To Harm she says, "Chloe was just a little concerned that she might be invading your space."

He flashes his best smile at Chloe and quickly snags a treat from Laura's bag without first peering inside. "If having girls in my personal space bothered me, I wouldn't have moved in with these two." He hikes his thumb in their direction. "Neither one of them is bashful about invading my space."

"Uncle Harm!" Laura objects.

"Well, you're not! Harm settles into the bedroom chair and rubs Laura's dog behind the ears when she trots over to see what's in his hand.

"Don't give her chocolate Harm." Chloe cautions.

"I won't. She's just checking to make sure it's not a dog biscuit."

Chloe squints first at Harm, and then at Laura before she glances into the bag quizzically. Returning her gaze to Laura, she announces in astonishment, "You've got dog treats in here with your candy!"

"Yeah, I know. Ain't it cool? You're right, Miss Trish didn't give me all that." Laura shakes her head with enthusiasm. Before they got dressed to go to the gallery, Aunt Mac and Uncle Harm took me trick or treating. We took Candy with us… My dog, not the kind you eat." Laura clarifies; giggling. "Lots of people would give me a treat and then ask to pet Candy. Some of them would say 'Hey wait.' Then they would go back inside, and come back with a treat for her too. Everybody says they've never seen a service dog go trick or treating before! Candy liked it!" Laura bobs her chin with certainty.

Chloe throws back her head and laughs merrily, "I'm sure she loved it! You better hope she never gets out without you. She'll go door to door, begging for goodies!"

Understanding that she is the star of the conversation, Laura's furry friend abandons her spot beside Harm. He's not relinquishing any treats anyway, so the big dog hops onto the bed and happily lays down across Laura's lap as Chloe reacquires her bottle of nail polish.

The teen pops a tootsie roll into her mouth and talks around it as she gently places Laura small foot back in her lap. "So, you don't like popcorn flavored jelly beans?"

Laura shakes her head adamantly. "Popcorn shouldn't be sweet. I don't like that kettle corn stuff either!"

"Or chocolate jelly beans?"

Laura wrinkles her nose in disgust and shakes her head twice as hard as before. "I don't know what they did wrong… But Jelly Belly messed up! Chocolate is yummy! Jelly beans are usually yummy… But, for some reason… " Laura pauses to shrug. "Chocolate jelly beans… Well, they're just plain nasty!" The girls shivers in revulsion.

Smiling, Chloe reaches out and musses Laura's hair. "Kid? Do you have an opinion on everything?"

Chloe watches Harm and Mac share at telling smile. Laughing, they announce in unison, "Just wait; she's just getting started!"


	22. Sleepless III

**Chapter 22: Sleepless III **

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**Author's Note:** So, thanks to the most recent comments of Steamboat, I got curious about something. How tall is Michael McGrady only, I confess, I didn't even know his name. So I had to type in 'Jack Keeter JAG' and work my way back from there. Answer: (According to the all-knowing Internet) 6'3". That didn't really surprise me. Here's something that did. He only starred as Jack Keeter twice (also according to the Internet. Please don't yell at me if that's wrong.) in ten years. Yet he finds his way into a surprising number of JAG fictions. It seems the man fascinates a great many. (Including myself) I couldn't find a height listing for Sibel Ergener-Galindez (Skates) she married in 2001, but I'll guess and wager approximately 5'6" give or take an inch or two either way. I will also guess that her real-life marriage: coincided with the announcement of Skates' engagement briefly mentioned on the show. Not too terribly long ago, one of my readers reminded me of the engagement, which I'll admit I had forgotten all about. Therefore, my reply was simply, "Oh well. I guess he flew the coop." His name may or may not have been David, and, if it was, I cannot help but wonder if that was intentional on the part of DPB &amp; TPTB. But, he does not exist here in my world; whoever he was. Happy reading y'all!

* * *

Friday, October 31, 2007

2347 HRS

Holiday Inn; San Diego

Even pleasantly relaxed by the effects of visiting with old friends and one too many glasses of white wine, Harriet cannot sleep. She is not tired. She has not done enough today. Caring for her husband and four small children has not consumed her every waking moment this day. It is too quiet here, too still, not to mention unfamiliar. She lies on her back staring up the ceiling, idly drumming her fingertips against her abdomen in the dark. She flips the cheap motel pillow over to the cool side for the third time and pummels it into submission. She should have brought her own pillow. A moment later she gives up and switches on the bedside lamp. She wants to call Bud; wants to talk to him; to hear his voice, but it's nearly 0300 in DC. If she did call him now, he would automatically assume something was wrong. It would scare him.

She gets out of bed and pads across the room to the desk in her socks and short pajamas. She connects her laptop to the hotel's free Wi-fi and climbs back onto the bed, where she sits Indian style with the notebook balanced on her knees. If she's not going to sleep, she may as well do some research. Google greets her with 'Hello Harriet' at the top left corner of the screen. She types in 'becoming a surrogate' and waits for the list of available sites to be populated.

* * *

Saturday, November 1, 2007

0037 HRS

Rabb Residence

The couple embracing quietly in the master bedroom's queen size bed is not sleeping either. "You think we should've given her some information when we dropped her at the motel tonight?" he asks out of the blue. "One of the booklets from the doctor's office?"

"No. We said we just wanted her to consider it for now. If she had asked for the information I might feel differently, but I don't want her to feel like we're pushing it on her. If and when she wants information, she'll ask us. I'm dying for an answer, and in a few days I'm going to need you to remind me to be patient, because I think you know I'm probably going to go a little crazy waiting. But still, we have to give her time."

He nods and kisses the top of her head.

They both come bolt upright in the bed when an involuntary, and very loud, utterance of excitement is heard from their living room. "Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and the camel!"

* * *

(Two minutes earlier)

Doing much the same thing as Harriett, out of idle curiosity, Chloe Madison sits on her friend's living room sofa in the dark perusing a list populated with the word 'surrogacy.' She clicks from one site to the next with heavy use of the 'back' button and decides to make a few notes. She reaches for a nearby leather shoulder bag and when she unzips the front pocket in search of an ink pen, she catches sight of the envelope Trish Burnett had handed her as she walked out of the Montage earlier in the evening. She'd been carrying Laura in her arms at the time and had said a polite 'thank you,' kissed the gallery owner's cheek, and tucked it away; saving it, instead, for a moment when her hands weren't quite so full.

Using only the light emitted from her laptop to read by, she breaks the seal on the business style envelope and squints slightly. The handwritten note on professional, yet delicate, stationary reads, 'Chloe, the amount enclosed is from previous days of sale. It does not include totals from tonight. Give me a few days time and I'll be in touch. It's been an absolute pleasure. ~Trish'

* * *

Tying the sash of a bright red satin robe, Mac leaves their bedroom at a trot. Looking over the bar that separates the kitchen from the living room she catches sight of Chloe standing erect and still as a statue in the center of their small darkened living room.

Puzzled because the girl doesn't appear hurt, Mac stops moving without warning and stares at Chloe, causing Harm, who is a ½ step behind, to collide with her. She would've toppled from the impact if it weren't for Harm's quick reflexes. She teeters off balance but feels his strong arms around her middle before she can go down.

Righting herself and patting his arms with gratitude she asks, "Chloe?"

The teen's head turns and she stares at Mac with wide astonished eyes. It takes several beats before she covers her mouth; realizing what she's done. "Oh God! Was that out loud? I'm sorry guys." She chuckles nervously. "I didn't mean to scare you. Go back to bed now. I'll be quiet… Promise… Sorry."

"Never mind that." Harm chuckles. "What's up kid?"

Chloe starts across the room and stops long enough to pick her overturned laptop up off the floor when she steps on it. She deposits it on the couch; hoping it's not broken. As she nears the bar, she wordlessly hands Mac the check that came with Trish's note.

Mac tries to see what all the fuss is about but has to pause long enough to turn on the light over the stove. When she understands, she smiles. The check isn't for an astronomical amount, but it's certainly worth much more than this working college student has ever had at one time. Mac displays the check for Harm's benefit and he whistles with appreciation.

Half ecstatic and half frightened, Chloe looks to Mac for reassurance. "You think that's a typo."

Mac shakes her head adamantly and Harm answers, "Mom wouldn't do that to you. Typos really aren't her style."

Flummoxed, Chloe argues. "Yeah, but that's not even including any sales from tonight and it's more than a ¼ of next semester's tuition."

Harm eyes her for a moment as if making an important decision and then turns and proudly sticks the check to the front of their refrigerator with a magnet to hold it in place. Chloe laughs and rounds the bar to join them in the kitchen where Mac hugs her, and then Harm pats the top of her head affectionately. This seems to catch her by surprise, but she recovers quickly when he says, "Nice job kid… now go to sleep!"

"Harm, are you nuts?" She looks at Mac. "He's nuts right? I couldn't go to sleep now if my life depended on it."

Shaking his head, he chuckles. "Well, can you at least be quiet?"

She hurries back to the couch and her laptop waiting there. "Yeah, I can do that. Night guys. Sweet dreams."


	23. Bud's Reaction

**Chapter 23: Bud's Reaction **

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**Author's Note: **One very observant reader noticed that there was a slight slip of the tongue in the chapter titled A Grand Opening. Knowing the difference, between what I wanted to say and what I did say, didn't keep me from making the error. Alas, it seems I am human. My apologies. The error has already been corrected, but just so readers won't be confused now; there is a very significant difference between an insemination and what Harm and Mac will be experiencing. I've done my best to explain that in this chapter. I've also strived diligently to lighten the mood by adding a little humor, hopefully without making light of what would be a very serious medical decision. As always, I hope that this chapter is not only enjoyable, but that it is also true to life.

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Saturday, November 1, 2007

0750 HRS

Holiday Inn; San Diego

"How was the opening?"

"Amazing; absolutely beautiful! Chloe says she wants to be the next Galen Rowell meets William Henry Jackson."

"That's nice." Bud tries optimistically. "Harriet, could you please stand still so I can see you?"

"I'm trying to finish dressing." She moves into camera frame. "There, is that better? And do you even recognize the names, Galen Rowell and William Henry Jackson"

"No, I don't…" Bud admits. "But, given her interests, I'll wager a guess that they were or are well known photographers "Honey, you look tired." Bud's concerned face smiles at her via the screen of her open laptop on the motel room desk as she tries to insert an earring by feel.

"Turns out I don't sleep so well without you snoring beside me." Harriet teases him, trying without much success to sound grumpy.

"I miss you too, but you'll be home tonight; right?"

"Probably… Maybe."

Before he can express his obvious concern over his wife's cryptic comments she adds, "Bud, I need to talk to you about something. The captain and the colonel… Harm and Mac… Well, they've asked us for a favor; and I may, or may not need to stay a little longer… Just to sort things out."

Bud grins. "Okay, whatever they need. We'll help in any way that we can."

She can't help but chuckle at her sweet husband's words; anything to help a friend… And two of their oldest at that. "Uh Bud." Harriet takes a deep breath. "This is one of those times when you're going to want to know what the favor is before you agree."

But squints. "I can't picture them asking us for anything we'd be unwilling to give."

Harriet thinks silently, 'Oh boy, just you wait.' as she recognizes the out of frame, but all too familiar sounds of Saturday morning cartoons, Jenny's laughter, and Jimmy, bouncing his favorite Nerf ball off the coffee table in their living room. She shakes her head. "I should just come home. We shouldn't have this conversation like this… And will you please tell Jimmy to stop bouncing that ball in the house. I don't care if it is a Nerf. He knows he's not supposed to do that. Not in the house. He's going to break something."

Bud reaches out, without taking his eyes away from his wife, and takes the ball away from his second oldest child.

"Aww Dad!" Harriet hears Jimmy object as Bud asks, "This isn't like the time you bought a house and we barely disgusted it via cyberspace, is it?

Harriet shakes her head adamantly with her blue eyes going wide. "This is bigger!"

"Bigger than the house?" Bud inquires, referring to the event itself and not the actual size of their residence. Good grief Harriet! Now you have to tell me… Right now!" he jokes, getting excited. What do they want… Our firstborn?

Recognizing that he is the topic of conversation, young A.J. comes to stand beside his father and smiles at his mother's image on screen. "Hi Mom! When you comin' home? Jimmy ate the last ice cream pop… And who wants me?"

"Hi sweetie. I'll be home soon. You'll live without ice cream pops for a day or two, and we want you. You aren't going anywhere. Go watch cartoons. Let me talk to Dad for a few more minutes alone okay. I promise, I won't log off without talking to you too."

" 'Kay Mom!" The boy disappears from view as quickly as he appeared.

Harriet watches Bud as he momentarily gives his attention to the children in the room before he turns it back to her with a raised eyebrow. "Well?"

Still at a loss for how to unload this bit of information, she thought about it for most of the night and never did come up with a good way to do it; she says simply, "No, they don't want our firstborn. They want theirs."

There is uncertainty in Bud's smile at first, and then he squints; trying to figure it out. Unable to find the lost bit of information he jokes, "Okay. I don't get it. What do they need? A babysitter for date night? A hotel room? Candles… ambiance… Mood music? What?"

"Bud!" She giggles. "Will you please be serious?"

"Honey I am serious. I'm just not sure how we're supposed to help with something like that. That's kind of personal; you know?"

Harriet rolls her eyes and breathes. "It's extremely personal, and it's about to become even more so… Do you remember my telling you about Mac's problem a few years ago?"

Bud freezes. After being married as long as he has, he recognizes the onset of one of those moments that he's probably going to regret. It's going to be one of those moments when she gets irritated with him and accuses him of not listening. "The colonel has a problem?" He asks cautiously.

"Her condition Bud." Harriet tries to clue him in.

He squints for another long moment, and then, " Oh yeah. With her… girl parts."

"Well I'm not really comfortable with you referring to them as 'girl parts' but yes."

Bud hopes he looks sufficiently contrite. " Sorry honey, but I'm not really comfortable talking about the colonel's 'parts' at all; no matter what you call them."

"Well, I know that sweetie but if we do what they're asking… You might have to get use to it."

"Why is that?"

Harriet chooses her next words carefully, trying not to set him anymore on edge. "Well see, her condition… it's worse… She's not going to be able to carry a child herself Bud."

Bud's usually jovial face falls; instantly sad and filled with compassion for his friends. He turns his eyes away from her, and she knows without asking that he is watching their children; trying to imagine their lives without any one of the currently lively bunch. It doesn't take him very long. Now, as at any other moment, there is one young face missing from their lives. When he turns to her again, she can see the faintest trace of moisture in the corners of his eyes.

She smiles sadly and says softly, "They need a surrogate Bud…"

He's silent for a long beat, but not quite as long as she was when the question was first posed to her. She tries to fill the weighted silence with, "They thought we would be here together. They wanted to talk to us both at the same time; things just didn't work out that way…" She stops when he holds up a hand.

"What did you tell them?"

"Nothing yet. Well, I told them I would think about it. That's all. Even they said I shouldn't give an answer until I talked to you."

"Is it dangerous… For you?"

"Well, I haven't talked to any doctors yet, but I couldn't sleep last night, so I did some online research. You know there's risk with any pregnancy; no matter how it occurs, but from what I can find, if a surrogate is a suitable match for the intended parents, that's what they call them; intended parents, then the actual conception is a bit more complicated but once the pregnancy is established the risks are comparable. It all just starts a little differently… And by 'a little,' what I mean it is 'blow your mind' differently. It's incredible what medical science can accomplish Bud."

Bud eyes his wife with speculation. "You want to do this." His words are not quite an accusation, but there's no question in them either.

Harriet says the word 'no', and nods her head 'yes' at the same moment.

He can't help but chuckle. "Well, which is it honey?"

"It's both Bud!"

Now he outright laughs. "As memory serves, I'm pretty sure, you can't have it both ways."

"I know you said we didn't need any more kids after the twins but…"

"That's neither here nor there." He finishes for her. "It wouldn't be our kid."

"Right, Baby Rabb would just come and stay with us for about nine months, and then we would send the little one home to live with his or her parents… A slight oversimplification I know…"

"Slight?" he bellows; enjoying the joke

"Oh honey, does that mean you don't absolutely hate the idea?"

"I don't know yet Harriett. Boy, when they ask a favor!" He pauses for another moment; still trying to wrap his mind around it. "If we say yes… What happens first?" He asks, trying to break it down into steps that will be easier to process.

"You sound just like me. They blew me away last night… First, we go to the doctor… I'm assuming theirs; not mine. It looks like there are some pretty advanced specialists involved. They do tests to see if I'm even suitable. Obviously, if I'm not, it stops there. Harm and Mac wouldn't even discuss it with me beyond that point last night. I'm pretty sure they are taking baby steps…" she giggles. "So as not to overwhelm us. If I am suitable, then we probably go over a lot of complicated information with a team of doctors. This goes beyond your basic obstetrician and\or gynecologist. Based on what I read last night, there are any number of fertility specialists, embryologists, hormone therapists, and even holistic medicine types involved, but if we decide to, we are free to decline… All the way up until the transplant. Obviously, that's the point of no return."

"Whoa! Wait a minute! Transplant?"

"I know. Sounds scary. It's not really. It's an embryonic transplant. It just means they'll implant Harm and Mac's already fertilized egg into my uterus."

Bud squints. "I guess I was thinking of something a little different."

She nods. "Probably an insemination. In that case the only thing implanted, so to speak, would be the sperm. At this point, they don't think they need an egg donor. The child would biologically belong to Mac."

For a flicker in time Harriet doesn't quite know what to make of the curious expression that materializes on her husband's face. Then, she realizes, yes, he's uncomfortable with parts of the topic, but the science fiction geek in him is rearing its pointy little head and he's doing battle with these two conflicting parts of his personality. She can tell that he doesn't want to seem unnaturally interested or inappropriate, but the science involved is intriguing him.

"Oh God! Bud, just ask before your mind implodes or you have one of your mini-meltdowns and go all 'Star Trek meets Dr. Frankenstein' on me."

"Well, I'm pretty sure I know how they get Harm's…uh… contribution, but how are they going to get Mac's… And then what happens?"

"From what I can read online - I'm sure it's a tad more complicated than it sounds- it's an outpatient procedure that involves an ultrasound machine and a large gauge syringe injected directly into an ovary. It didn't strike me as pleasant. They harvest a large number of eggs and put them in a carefully contained environment along with the sperm… And wait for nature to take its usual course. There'd be a bit of prep work involved in getting me ready, but I won't actually be needed until after fertilization occurs."

"Why a large number of eggs?

"Because, even when pregnancy occurs naturally, without medical interference of any kind, A woman's body first views a pregnancy as an infection that her immune system attacks in an attempt to try and keep her healthy. Starting a pregnancy this way is significantly more invasive which means her body's basically going to be on high alert. Add to that, the fact that the egg itself is foreign to her body, and a successful implantation becomes very difficult. They will transplant anywhere from 12 to 30 fertilized embryo because the odds of even one surviving the process is fairly great. Even if we agree to go through with the transplant, that's a high probability it won't work. There are hormone injections and medications involved to make the process go more smoothly but, even then, it's little more than a medically supported crapshoot."

"Okay, I understand so far, but you've already had multiple pregnancies; one of them involving twins. We already know you're receptive to pregnancy that occurs naturally. Does that mean you're more likely to be receptive to this process? And if so, when they transplant that many embryo, will that have any bearing on how many survive? Multiple birth pregnancies have higher health risks."

"I didn't think about that. Look Bud, if we decide to do this… We can ask the doctors all these questions, and go from there. Whatever the answers are, I just feel like, without rushing, we need to make a decision one way or the other… in or out… as quickly as possible because I love all my babies, and I would be going out of my mind right now if I were sitting, waiting for someone to answer this question for me. I want all the information necessary to make an informed decision if we're going to do it, but I don't want to keep them waiting in agony either. Last night, I told them I would think about it. But, if you just absolutely want to say no, then we need to let them know that as soon as possible so they can find someone else."

"Harriet, I'm just not ready to say yes. And obviously, it's you who has to do it physically… Not me. I know my opinion counts, but do you really want to be pregnant again; under any circumstances. Think about honey. If you really wouldn't mind doing that again, then get us information, and lots of it, and tell them we're on board for the initial round of tests only. If the doctors say you're not suitable, then we don't need to discuss it any further. If you are, then we're going to need lots of questions answered before we say yes."

Nodding, Harriet smiles. "Okay! Now… Let me talk to my kids!"


	24. Starting to Heal

**Chapter 24: **Starting To Heal

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**Author's Note: **Parts of this chapter may, or may not, can be a little off. Occasionally, I'm just in the mood to throw words at the page and see what sticks.

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Saturday, November 1, 2007

0950 HRS

Rabb Residence

Perspiring slightly in the morning breeze, Mac slows to a sprint at the water's edge where the sand is packed firmly. She smiles in response to the sight of early morning sunlight glistening in ripples on the water's surface. The old adage about the sky's coloring echoes through her mind. 'Red sky at morning, sailor take warning. Red sky at night, sailor take flight.'

'Sometimes it's right.' She muses to herself as she heads for the back porch steps at a quick walk. The tide may churn by tonight, but for now everything is spectacularly gorgeous and absolutely tranquil. One hand on the porch rail, she can see around the side of the house and catches a glimpse of a familiar Chrysler pulling into the drive. She checks her internal clock and changes direction thinking, 'Uh oh!"

She rounds the side of the house and smiles when both of the vehicle's front doors open. "You guys are about 40 minutes early." She pants lightly. I sincerely doubt they're ready for you inside."

Mac tries not to chuckle when Trish shoots her husband a look over the roof of the car that very plainly says, 'I told you so.' To Mac she says, "I'm sorry darling. I tried to tell him it's rude to show up so much earlier than expected… But, I'm just his wife… What do I know?" She asks lightly; offering a warm smile.

"I don't mind if I have to wait for her." Frank declares. "She was so fascinated last night by the mention of a golf course. I think she's even managed to intensify my own interest. I can't wait to see what the little pixie comes up with next."

Mac laughs as she waves them toward the front porch. "Come on in. You never can tell what Laura's likely to find fascinating Frank; not from one minute to the next. Mac checks the doorknob to see if the front door is unlocked. When it opens, she pauses long enough to toe her way out of her running shoes without undoing the laces. Having no desire to track sand through the house, she leaves them on the front porch but uses one foot to gently push them out of the path of the door so Trish and Frank won't trip over them on their way in.

Frank raises an eyebrow. "The breeze is nice out here this morning; cool, but you're sweating. How far did you go?

"Only four this morning. We all slept in a bit."

"Four? As in four miles? On purpose?"

Trish chuckles drolly. "Yes Frank. Some people exercise on purpose."

Enjoying the banter between them, Mac opens the door to the smell of coffee perking, and the sounds of a spoon clinking against the side of a cereal bowl, and Chloe perched on a bar stool quietly singing to herself, spoon in hand, as she peruses the latest copy of the Navy Times. The girl half sings, half mumbles a sweet, yet melancholy tune.

_His eyes are blue just like the ocean._

_His heart is a river; free._

_Now and then he takes the notion and he finds his way to me._

Mac begins to hum along to the familiar tune; pausing long enough to smooth the girl's hair affectionately and kiss the top of her head. "Morning."

"Morning." She answers warmly without immediately looking up from her reading. After a beat she pauses and offers them all warm smiles. "I think Harm's in the shower. Laura got up a few minutes ago, asked me what time it was, and then she asked how many minutes until 10:30 before she hurried away muttering under her breath. I think she's in her room." Chloe has another bite of cereal, and then absent mindedly returns to her quiet song.

_His love's like rain on a tin roof._

_The sweet song of the summertime storm_

_And oh, the way that he moves you_

_It's a melody of passions raging on;_

_And then he's gone…_

Moving to the stove and shaking her head as she goes, Mac holds up the percolator with a smile meant for Trish and Frank; silently asking them if they want coffee. When they both nod, she reaches into a nearby cabinet for four mugs. She fills three, leaves the fourth sitting ready for Harm and returns the coffee maker to the stove top to keep its contents hot. Offering the older couple their cups she gives her attention back to Chloe. "What was Laura muttering about?"

"Well, I didn't catch it word for word, but basically it was something about how not everybody has a ticking clock inside their heads, and how Aunt Mac…" Chloe pauses to make meaningful eye contact. "Really needs to buy some clocks for this house, because if you aren't here, nobody wakes up on time and that's not fair because now she's going to be late." Chloe giggles. "I laughed and told her it would be alright. She said, 'I didn't say anything funny. Why are you laughing?' Mac she is so serious! Way too serious for such a little kid… And can she even tell time yet"

Mac shimmies her hand side to side in the air. "She's got a pretty good grasp on digital clocks; still gets a bit confused every once in a while. We're still working on older clocks. She understands the five minute increments well enough, but she still gets puzzled about which one is the minute hand and which one is the hour. She thinks the longer hand should represent the longer amount of time; the hour not the minute."

Chloe chuckles, "I've never seen a six year old worry about being late for anything… Not ever!"

"Yeah, well. She woke up and I was out on my run. She's a lot better than she was when she first moved in, but my absence, even a brief one, still makes her nervous. And, she's all excited about going to play golf with Mr. Frank." Mac smiles at the man with appreciation. "Knowing her, she's worried that if she's not ready in time, you'll leave without her. You're being early is likely to be a mild upset for her."

"Aw, poor kid. But, seriously? She wants to play golf?" Chloe's smiles at Frank sheepishly. "Sorry Mr. Burnett; no offense. Smacking little white balls around, trying to make them go where they're supposed to go just doesn't hold any appeal. And does Laura realize that the clubs are practically longer than she is tall?"

Trish laughs breezily. "That's precisely what the game is about too Chloe; a power trip… if you ask me."

Completely unaffected, Frank merrily rolls his eyes at his wife. "All I know is… Last night she asked me what I was going to do this weekend… "Anything fun?" she wanted to know. I told her that I was going to play golf. She said she'd never played golf. She managed to make it sound like this mysterious and magical thing she's been deprived of. So, I asked her if she wanted me to take her to play miniature golf. You know, thinking that would be age-appropriate. She thought about this very seriously for several seconds and then told me with complete certainty. No, she doesn't want to play baby golf! She wants to play real golf…" Frank forms quote marks in the air with his fingers. 'Like the people on TV who wear the silly socks!' So, I don't really care how impractical this might sound. I'm going to take the girl to the golf course, rent her some child-size clubs, and if she actually manages to hit the ball, forgot about the hole, if she can just hit the ball; I will buy her an ice cream sundae, and whatever else she wants to eat for lunch! I'm going to go tell her I'm here, that I'm early, and she doesn't need to worry; I'm not leaving without her."

"The three women watch the man leave the room. Once he is gone, Mac's laughter bubbles out of her. "Oh God Trish! He is gone!"

Settling onto the bar stool beside Chloe, Trish pauses to sip her hot coffee carefully. As the older woman nods adamantly, Chloe continues to idly hum the sweet, poignant, tune.

"You're right Mac. Frank's completely gone! She's got him wrapped so tight!" Trish holds up the little finger of her free hand. "Wrapped all the way around! It'll be interesting to find out if she can stand upright, keep her balance, and swing a golf club all at the same time. I tried to tell him, that might be a little much for her, but he didn't listen. He's determined, if the baby wants to play golf, then by Heaven, she's going to play golf! He's going to make it happen!"

Mac shakes her head. "I'll put some sunscreen in her bag and a few band-aids too. My guest is she'll fall down and skin her knees at least twice."

Chloe stands up and moves her empty cereal bowl to the sink. Rinsing it, she looks around, but Mac is blocking her view of clock on the stove. She gives up and asks, " Mac, what time is it?"

"It's 0954. You still going to the museum exhibit?

Chloe nods. "It should be interesting. I'd better get moving. See you at Magellan this afternoon?" Chloe returns to her spot to pick up her coffee cup.

Mac nods. "Harm says he doesn't mind if we're there. He invited Keeter. I think he needs an extra pair of hands to reassemble her. I'm guessing it's probably not a one man job."

"Is he gonna fly tonight?"

"Don't know. Depends on how much work she needs. He's let her sit idle for the last two years."

Chloe shakes her head. "That's so weird. I can't imagine Harm not flying. Mattie must've been special to have inspired his self-imposed grounding. I wish I could've met her."

"He wishes that too. She was a great girl. I wish I'd spend more time with her." Affected by the moment, Mac sips coffee more to have something to do than out of desire for the drink.

Unsure how to continue, Chloe is awkward for a moment and then says quietly, "I've never seen a stearman taken all apart before."

Mac chuckles a tad nervously herself, "I'm not exactly anxious to see it. I've flown in Sarah. I'm not sure I'm ready to see her; even partially disassembled. I still remember being irritated with him when he needed to set her down that day years ago, and he waited longer than I was comfortable because he was looking for a bigger clearing so he could get her back out again. At the time, I didn't understand why the plane was so important. Now he's left her to sit. He doesn't talk about it much, but just based on a few comments I've heard him make in recent weeks - he's using pilot-speak again; last night telling Keeter he was coming in a little high when Keeter was joking about Baby Rabb number one… Harm… well he hasn't done that sort of thing until just recently. I noticed a very conspicuous absence of pilot jargon before he even moved in. So, he is thinking about flying again. Even though he still keeps it to himself for the most part, that's wonderful; it means he's starting to heal. That's what I want, but if Sarah's in really bad shape… it's just going to break his heart. He'll blame himself. Not sure I'm ready to see that…" Mac tilts her head slightly and shrugs. "But… Ready or not…"

"You'll set things right." Chloe assures.

Mac moves close and wraps the girl in a one armed hug. At the same time, she reaches out and gently squeezes Trish's shoulder; noticing the woman has suddenly fallen silent.

In turn, Harm's mother reaches up and tenderly pats the hand on her shoulder. "We've gotten him this far." Trish speaks. "Bad as it will be, it'll be good for him to see the way things are. You know Harm, if something's broken, or even if it's just… not right… He's gotta fix it!"

Chloe laughs. "I noticed that about him the very first time I met him." Shaking herself free of her momentary blues, the girl returns to her tune as she leaves them to go and dress for her day.

Trish watches after her until she is gone. " Mac that girl is fabulous."

Mac smiles. "You'll get no argument from me!" The Marine uses the hand holding her coffee cup to point to the check still affixed to the front of her refrigerator by magnet. "Trish, you should've heard her last night. It was after midnight before she got around the opening that envelope. Harm and I were almost asleep, but she had us up and moving quick as lightning. It was priceless…"

They pause in their conversation as Chloe moves from Laura's bedroom to the adjacent small bathroom; still amusing herself with song.

_And just like a thirsty field,_

_I can't complain a bit._

_Because I'm thankful for every drop I can get..."_


	25. A Late Start

**Chapter 25: **A Late Start

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**Author's Note: **A bit of fun to be had here; I think.

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Saturday, November 1, 2007

0950 HRS

Jack Keeter's Apartment

Cup of coffee in hand; Keeter moves toward his bedroom with every intention of waking the sleeping occupant. He makes it as far as the doorway, but that's where he stops. His left shoulder against the door jamb, he crosses his ankles, sips coffee, and for a long moment he simply watches her. She sprawls on her stomach in the center of his bed, her head turned toward the wall opposite the door, arms and legs every which way, and her long dark hair messy and tangled across his pillow. Again, he starts into the room, sets his coffee cup on the bedside table, and with one knee on the edge of the mattress he leans in intent on giving her a gentle shake, but the faintly lingering scents of yesterday's perfume and her shampoo stop him once again.

'Aw hell!" he thinks, knowing that if he wakes her she'll be sweet, and silent. He noticed it the weekend of the wedding a few months ago. The fact that he noticed wasn't impressive. It was impossible not to notice. Elizabeth Hawkes doesn't talk in the morning; not before a shower and food. She's not a grouch. She's just silent; as if her vocal cords don't yet function. She listens, and her dark eyes are incredibly expressive. So much so that there were times that weekend when he knew what she was thinking simply by looking into those eyes. But she won't say a word, not one, before he feeds her and she's had the chance to shower. And for some reason, God knows why, he finds this little quirk of hers oddly irresistible. It threw him the first time they woke up together. He can't even remember what he was talking about. He just remembers her eyes. He had asked her something. What was it? He doesn't know. She watched him intently. He knew she heard every word, and she did answer him; 35 minutes later. By the time she did, he'd forgotten that he had even asked the question; whatever it was.

He decides that if he wakes her, she'll look at him with those same eyes and he can kiss his plans for going to the gym this morning goodbye. Not that he wouldn't rather go back to bed with her, but if he does that he knows the day will be shot and he'll never make it to Magellan this afternoon. Can't do that to Harm! This no flying thing has got a stop. It's just not natural!

He leaves her as she is and quietly backs of the room. He drains his coffee cup, rinses it, and leaves it in the sink. He takes the dry erase marker from the message board on his refrigerator and returns to the bedroom where he scrawls a message on the dresser mirror.

_'Gone to gym. Back soon. Mi casa es su casa senorita._

_ Keeter.' _

As an afterthought, he adds, _'If you need anything, I've got my cell.'_

He steps into the bathroom long enough to make sure there are fresh towels and puts fresh coffee in the coffee maker; readying it so that all she will have to do is turn it on. Being as quiet as a guy his size can he backs out the front door and locks it behind him.

Nearly an hour and a half later, he returns with an extra large pizza and finds his apartment as quiet as he left it. Jiggling his keys out of a lock, he balances the pizza box on one palm and then gently kicks the door closed. He delivers the pizza box to the kitchen counter and is surprised to find that the coffee maker has not been turned on. He does so and decides that while he's waiting for coffee he may as well get a quick shower. When he enters the bedroom on his way to the bathroom he's shocked to find his guest still sleeping. The bed sheets are even more rumpled than when he left. Skates has kicked the comforter off the bed completely and the top sheet is pulled free of the bottom corners of the mattress; both of her feet plainly visible. She's curled onto her left side and she's got a stranglehold on his pillow. He chuckles quietly, deciding he's more amused than concerned, and leaves her as she is.

Ten minutes later, showered and buttoning his shirt, he re-enters the bedroom on his way once more to the kitchen and trips over his pillow. It's on the floor three feet from the bed. Cursing quietly from the mild shock, he stumbles and catches himself against the dresser. First, he glances at the pillow on the floor, and then he glances at the woman in the bed. He snags the pillow from the floor and gently tosses it in her direction. It lands in the middle of her back and she doesn't so much as stir. He shakes his head and decides it's time to take matters into his own hands.

In the kitchen, he pours two cups of coffee, grabs a couple of paper towels from the roll and some paper plates from a cabinet. He stacks it all on top of the pizza box. Box in one hand, coffee mugs balanced awkwardly and the other, he returns to the bedroom and puts it all down on the bedside table.

He perches on the edge of the bed and gently nudges her until she rolls out of the center; clutching his pillow yet again and taking it along with her. With room to be comfortable, he steals the pillow back and props himself up. He puts three slices of pizza on a plate and settles in; plate on his lap, pizza in one hand, and coffee cup in the other.

While he eats, he watches her and marvels at how he could sleep so soundly at night lying next to someone who moves constantly. In the next five minutes, she changes position a 1/2 dozen times. She'd given him reason enough to stay awake for most of the night, but then, she'd been awake with him. What little he slept, he slept well. This puzzles him until he realizes with a satisfied grin that she wore him out.

Before taking another bite, he pauses to sip coffee and realizes suddenly that she's gone still. He turns to find her curled on her side and watching him intently with warm sleepy eyes. "Bout time you woke up!" He announces over the rim of his cup. "It's nearly1200. I thought the smell of food might do it." He chuckles quietly at the look of alarm that rises in her eyes. "Yeah that's right." He teases. "I said 1200."

She stares at him; obviously waiting for him to tell her that he's joking. When he doesn't, she pushes herself up into a sitting position and tucks the sheet around herself as she catches sight of his note still scrawled on the mirror in dry erase marker. She eyes him quizzically.

"Yeah, I already left and came back."

She gives him another look; part sleepy smile, part scowl. This one he interprets as 'You've got way too much energy.' She looks at his plate, and nearly drools.

"Hungry?" He laughs; teasing. "After last night, you should have quite the appetite."

She reaches for the slice still on his plate and he quickly moves his plate out of her reach. "Uh uh sweetheart!" He says, imitating Humphrey Bogart. "This one's mine! Get your own." He bobs his chin indicating the box on the bedside table, and is mildly surprised at how quickly he finds himself being straddled in pursuit of nothing more than food.

She snatches the box and returns to her side of the bed quick as a hiccup. Balancing it on her knees, she stuffs pillows behind her back and wiggles around until she is comfortable. Then, she squints at the heavy duty paper plate on top of the pizza box as if it is a wholly unfamiliar object. She picks it up, looks it over, turning it this way and that, and then sails it across the room with the flick of her wrist as if it were a Frisbee.

He tries without much success, not to laugh around the bite of pizza that is in his mouth while she happily opens, and eats straight from, the box. "Shows you what I know. I thought you might find paper plates a bit low-rent."

She shoots him a look that says she might be questioning his sanity, but otherwise doesn't comment. She helps herself to two big bites before she actually pauses to look at the pizza. Pepperoni and mushroom must meet with her approval, because she nods quickly, bobbing her chin just once. She is busy with her third bite when she looks around; obviously missing something.

He grins comically when she spies the other coffee cup, looks down at the pizza box all nice and comfortable in her lap, and gives him a pleading look. He picks it up; holding it with his fingers curved around the top. "Is this what you want?

She just looks at him; nary a word.

"Say please." He teases.

The thought of actual speech must worry her, because for a moment she looks utterly perplexed, but as he watches confusion shifts into a sly smile. She offers him a chaste kiss and then looks at him expectantly; her eyes wide.

He shakes his head. "I know you can do better than that."

She playfully slugs his shoulder and when bullying him doesn't work she offers another kiss; this one much more to his liking. After a few seconds he forgets about coffee cup. But she doesn't, as soon as she feels him relax she reaches out and snags if the more prevalent object of her desire; breaking the kiss it abruptly.

"Hey, no fair!" he objects noisily as she pushes him away but, try as he does, he can't keep from laughing as she cradles the coffee cup lovingly in both hands as if it were a cherished object and smiles victoriously over its rim.

"Fine, be that way." He chuckles. "I was going to ask you if you wanted to come to Magellan with me this afternoon. I'm supposed to help Harm uncrate Sarah. Don't know yet if she'll be airworthy, but it's a nice day. I thought, maybe we could rent a plane for an hour or two, but… If you can't be nice…."

Before he can finish the thought she's back in his lap, her eyes pleading with him, pizza and coffee forgotten.


	26. There are no minor characters!

**Author's note: **The next chapter will be posted in a few hours time, but before it is I just had to take a moment and tell you all that you guys are awesome!

Not too very long ago a very kind reader told me that she liked the way I 'fleshed' Laura - that although she is an original and supporting character to the main plot of the story; she's very visible. She went on to say that when most writers add supporting characters to a story, they leave the characterization vague. I personally feel that the reason people do this is most often to add filler to a story without taking attention away from the characters they are most interested in. Well, contrary to the old classic TV commercial that says so, there is not always room for Jell-o. (Just between you, me, and the world wide web, I'd rather go to the dentist for a root canal that eat a bowl of Jell-o. No, I don't care what color the stuff is, or what flavor it is. That stuff is vile!)

Even though her comments were positive, they inspired me to pay even closer attention to all my characters. There are no minor characters! Each one needs and deserves to be fully fleshed. Years ago I read a book by a favorite author, I'd have to go through the series to tell you which book it was, but one of her supporting characters was a forensic ornithologist whose name was Minor Downey, and he was reported to have hair as white and soft as duck down. He probably took up two full pages in the entire novel, but she brought him so fully to life in those few scant words, that sometimes, I could almost swear that the 45-ish year old man of slight build with warm eyes who walks past me somewhere in public, surely must be him. All these years later, the rest of the story has retreated to the dark recesses of my mind and will only be called forth again if I should happen to re-read the book, but I remember Mr. Downey quite well, and most fondly. Anyway, and before I get too much further off topic, my point is this. I strive to breathe life into all my characters. I don't want them to be filler, Jell-o, or ghostly apparitions, and I challenge you, as writers, to do the same.

Why am I telling you all this; because I'm trying to achieve a better rhythm with this story than its predecessors. Since the story deals with multiple characters, I don't want to get so caught up with one set that I neglect the others. The truth is, in the wee early hours of yesterday morning when I posted chapter 24, I was trying to show you what was occurring in the Rabb household at the same moment that Harriett was having her chat with Bud, and for some reason, I was a bit stuck. I threw in the bit about Frank taking Laura to play golf on and whim. In the time since then, I've received five different messages/emails (so far) urging me; telling me that I simply must include a chapter about Laura learning to play grown-up golf.

Your interest in her thrills me more than I can say. It's really quite the compliment. So, again, thank you all.

The last time I even set foot on a golf course, I was 12 years old, and that was nearly 30 years ago. The local Lion's club wanted me to come be part of some fundraiser. Because they were kind enough to see to it that I got to attend the best summer camp imaginable each summer for 10 years; I felt obligated to show up and allow myself to be used as one of their poster children. I don't really remember much about playing golf that day. I just remember laughing and being happy. It was one of those few days that I got to spent all alone with my dad; didn't have to compete with my brother and sister for his attention. It was a good day. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to obtain at least some semblance of knowledge about how to play golf!

~Leigh


	27. Author's Note: UGH!

Okay y'all. I took a tumble this morning. Ordinarily, it takes a good 24 hours before I really start to feel the effects of one of my hard landings. Yes, I'm okay, there's no major damage done. This one didn't even cost me a trip to the emergency room, but it's catching up with me early.

I was a few 1000 words into the next chapter, when somehow I managed to delete it - A pretty impressive feat considering my computer is set up to auto save. Right now, I don't have the wherewithal to figure out what I did wrong and I'm sorry but I simply don't have it within me to start over again tonight. I'm taking my tired, sore, battered body to bed and when I feel like venturing out again I will start over. Myself, Laura, Harm, Mac and the rest of the gang wish you all a lovely day wherever you are in the world. We'll be in touch soon.

~Leigh


	28. Sarah, Unexpected Gifts, & Grouch-face

**Chapter 28: Sarah, Unexpected Gifts, &amp; Howard 'Grouch-face' Munson **

* * *

**Author's Note: **Dear sweet Annie, please trust, that in chapter 25, I was not making fun of Skates, nor laughing at her. I too am intimately familiar with the no talking before coffee, shower, and food rule – usually in that order. It was all meant in fun, and I'm guessing you probably know that. (BIG SMILE)

Laughter through tears is my favorite expression of emotion, so grab a box of tissues and get ready. This one's a bit of a roller-coaster ride!

* * *

Saturday, November 1, 2007

Magellan

1526 HRS

Trish and Mac approach slowly at first, scanning their surroundings for the appropriate hangar number. Once they get a feel for the general layout they quicken their pace; following the identification markers clearly posted. "It should be this one; just up ahead." Mac declares, craning her neck when the hangar's wide open doors come into view. Just inside the doors she is vaguely aware of Elizabeth Hawkes sitting perched in one corner on top of a toolbox that is almost as tall as Mac. The other woman has a large bag of peanuts clamped between her knees, and sits; enjoying her treat. But the Marine's more immediate attention goes to the nearly assembled yellow biplane.

"She lives!" Mac cheers with delight.

Standing on the hangar floor several feet away and wearing coveralls , Keeter ducks around the plane's engine from the opposite side where he is tinkering with something inside one of the plane's maintenance compartments. Wiping his hands on a grease rag, he chuckles. "Well, we're not entirely certain about that yet. She's together, but we've got a few more things to check out before I'm ready to declare her airworthy."

"Make sure she is. I don't want him so much as taxiing out of here until she's green lit for flight." Mac leaves Trish standing beside Skates and trots over, stepping up onto the plane's wing and leaning in to offer Harm, who is in the cockpit fiddling with the plane's instrument panel, a kiss. "Hey Flyboy."

Harm flashes his smile. "Hi Ninja Girl." He leans into her touch, thinking she meant to caress his cheek affectionately.

"She smiles in response but wrinkles her nose; reminding him of Laura when she declares. "'You've got dirt on your face."

"Ahh." He answers and then kisses her palm before she wipes her thumb, and the grimy smudge it now bears, on the leg of her jeans.

"There!" She announces. "Still handsome."

"Thank goodness." He chuckles.

"You getting excited yet?"

He purses his lips and rocks his hand side to side in the air, trying to downplay his own enthusiasm, but she can see an old familiar light, or just the glimmer of one, returning to his blue eyes and she rises on tiptoe and hugs him zealously.

"You're in a good mood. He says surprised by the warm hug and taking note of the glow in her dark eyes. "You have fun shopping with Mom?"

She nods vigorously and says quietly, "I've really did! It's so nice Harm. Nice shop; pretty things… Amore Boutique… But that's not the best part. I can go out with your mother, I'm not forced to participate in inane girl talk, I don't have to censor every thought before it makes its way out of my mouth, and I don't walk around expecting to be disappointed at any moment… the way I do with my own mother."

He nods. "You buy out the store?"

She gives his shoulder a gentle shove. "No, only a few things. They were even on sale." She looks around. "Frank didn't show up yet?"

"Not yet." Harm says with enthusiasm. "Either they're having the time of their lives… Or Laura's hit him over the head with a golf club!"

Laughing; Mac lifts and inspects an elbow resting against the side of the cockpit, finding a trace of dirt, she announces. "Harm, she needs a bath!"

"Patience Jarhead. Right now we're more concerned about the inside than the outside. We'll clean her up soon enough."

"Okay, unless you need me, I'm gonna go talk to Skates."

"She might like that. She's been helping us out when we need her to. She's taking a break right now, but she fits in pretty well with the boys."

Mac offers him another light kiss before climbing down and rounding the engine once more. This time, Keeter is on his back on the ground near the landing gear, which appears to be partly disassembled. "Jack, what are you doing down there?" she squats on her heels momentarily.

He takes note of her habit for using his first name and returns the favor. "I'm making sure the struts are sound… Sarah."

Mac looks curiously at the hodgepodge of parts for a moment and then shrugs nonchalantly. "Okay." Then she asks with uncertainty, "You need any help?"

He raises an eyebrow. "You know anything about airplanes struts, or what makes them airworthy?"

Shaking her head adamantly, she admits. "Not a thing."

"Yeah, I kinda figured. Go talk to Skates." He says chuckling.

Nodding; Mac rises to her full height and joins the women. She reaches into the female pilot's offered bag of treats and helps herself to a handful. Shelling a lightly salted peanut, she laughs. "I think he just politely told me to get lost."

With a nod and a laugh of her own, Skates joins in. "I do know something about airplanes struts, but the truth is, the boys are having fun with their toy. They're both too nice to say so, but I think they'd rather be alone with the old girl."

Keeter grouses loudly in an 'I heard that' tone of voice. "Hey, watch who you're calling old! She can't hear; you know!"

Every bit as passionate about aircraft as her male counterparts, and growing more fond of the one harassing her by the day, Skates fires back; undaunted. "Oh, hush Keeter! I know she can hear. Sarah's not stupid! She's old. She knows that. Old doesn't mean useless! She knows that too!"

Mac and Trish exchange happy smiles and shake their heads in amusement. To Skates, Mac whispers, "He's starting to grow one you."

Skates grins and whispers back, "Annoying… but true." She slides down from her perch on top of the tall Craftman's toolbox and moves to stand between Trish and Mac so she can lower her voice even more.

"You'll never guess what he told me this morning… Well actually it was lunchtime but… Anyway, I spilled coffee on him." She laughs. "No, accidentally." She clarifies in response to questioning looks from each of the other women. He had to change shirts, and I notice this God awful bruise on his arm. Apparently, I did it last night when I pinched him."

Mac nods; giggling quietly. "I saw you do that. Must've hurt! I saw him move away from you before you could do it a second time when he asked which one of us had the problem."

"Well yeah, but I didn't know a guy his size could bruise as easily as an old woman!" Skates hisses; chuckling. "And anyway, I thought he was just being Keeter. You know, about to use a very personal, and possibly very painful, moment for Harm to make a very colorful and equally inappropriate offer. When I noticed the bruise this morning and we talked about it, he got a little mad at me! Turns out, he was about to make the offer I suspected; but most genuinely. He was offended at my assumption that his offer was less than… altruistic… I suppose you would say, and he was definitely a little more than uncomfortable talking about it."

Skates continues to whisper, "But he said, Look Elizabeth, the last thing any kid needs is me for a father! But I guess if I didn't have to be the one doing the fathering, the kid would turn out alright. I kind of wish Harm was the one with the issue. At least then I could do something to help them. The way things are…well, there's nothing I can do about it."

Skates pauses and nods affirmatively in response to the astonished look on Mac's face. "I know, believe me, I know. I apologized to him and just wanted to hug him and not let go. He would've stepped up right away; no questions asked."

Mac swallows the unexpected knot of emotion rising in her throat. "Thank you for telling me that! God that feels good. I mean I know they're close…but… This is a big deal. I still can't believe it went as smoothly as it did. Honestly, I'm still not quite sure how we got through it. I can't say for certain how I expected Harriet to respond, but I certainly didn't expect her to be flattered."

"I can certainly understand why she was. To trust someone that much… I don't know how you'll feel about this… And I understand Harriet's your first choice… But if things don't work out." Skates pauses; a little uncertain she should continue. "I'd at least be willing to go through the initial round of testing. Don't know how it would turn out, but I'd be willing…" When Mac's jaw drops she adds, "I just thought you'd like to know."

Speechless for several beats, Mac just stares at her. "I…I… Skates, I don't even know what to say." She changes her mind. "Yes I do, thank you! Are you sure? You and I… We hardly know each other."

"Well, that can change, and I'm as sure as I can be. I suppose… Truth is… My motives aren't entirely selfless. First, Harm and I… Well, we've been through a lot together. Second, I guess he's told you because Keeter's probably told him, but I'm here taking care of an elderly aunt who likely isn't going to be here much longer. Something like this, let's just say, it would make her happy in her last days. Lastly, I'm not certain whether or not I want children. I can never seem to make up my mind, but I see pregnant women in public and I can't help but wonder what that's like. Part of me wants to know, but becoming a mother just because you want to know what it's like to be pregnant; that's just stupid! It's not as if I'd be buying a new dress. If I decide motherhood doesn't fit right, it's not like I can take the kid back to where it came from and ask for a refund!" She laughs a bit awkwardly. "Something like this… I guess it could be a sort of a trial run; or at least as close as you can get to one. It might help me make up my mind."

Skates passes a look between Mac and Trish. Their smiles are slightly… She decides bemused might be the right word, but she can't quite tell if they're laughing with her or at her. "Am I awful; just incredibly selfish?"

Mac shakes her head adamantly; unable to find words. It's Trish who does voice the answer, " I don't think a little self-discovery makes you inherently selfish; especially not when making a dying old lady happy and helping a couple of friends in need are two of the byproducts. Even if it does, all parents should want to be selfish enough to be certain that parenthood is what they truly want before they become parents."

Mac nods her agreement vigorously and pulls Skates into an unexpected hug. "But, don't you have to leave soon? Go back to Germany?"

"I've requested a change of station. Not because of you and Harm, but because my aunt's taking her time… And because… I'm really just not ready to leave." She doesn't say anything specifically about him, but she does cast a glance in Keeter's direction before continuing. "I can't guarantee that request will be granted, and if it's not, of course, that would make me unsuitable for what you and Harm need. It's not that I expect Harriett to say no, quite the opposite actually. I just thought I'd let you know that I'm open to the possibility."

Mac tightens her embrace and Skates is a little surprised a moment later when she finds herself being passed into Trish's equally affectionate embrace.

"Hey!" Harm approaches wearing his grin. "What's all this about? What's going on over here?" He demands nonchalantly.

Mac's dark eyes glow warmly when she tells him "Skates says she'll be our fallback plan… Well, at least go get tested for surrogacy, if things don't work out with Harriett."

Skates laughs merrily as she's instantly wrapped in a third strong, warm hug. Stretching up on tiptoe to return her friend's embrace she declares, "You guys like to hug!" causing Mac to join in with her own laughter.

"Just wait! They'll rub off on you too!" The Marine announces with feeling.

Chuckling, Harm lowers altitude and kisses his fellow pilot's cheek; drawing a non-hazardous but noisy and grumpy sounding complaint from another old friend. "Hey, what gives buddy? I'm over here on the floor, working on your airplane, and you're over there kissing my girl!"

"Oh, I'm yours now; am I?" Skates fires back.

Careful not to bump his head on the underside of the plane; Keeter sits up and then pushes himself easily to his feet. Joining them, he flashes a confident smile "Well, yeah… You are… At least until you decide you're bored with me."

To sooth his ruffled feathers, Mac wraps Keeter in a hug and when he leans back to squint down at her, puzzled by the sudden show of affection, she kisses his cheek and whispers, "Thank you Jack."

"What for?" He raises a curious eyebrow.

"Yeah, what for?" Harm echoes.

"I told her." Skates clears things up for Keeter at least.

'Oh." Keeter looks mildly uncomfortable but only for about ½ a second; recovering, he shrugs. "But I didn't do anything!"

"But you would have… If need be?" Mac questions.

A touch of awkwardness returning, He runs a hand through his hair and rubs the back of his neck, and then he shrugs again. "Well yeah… It ain't no big deal… Not to me."

"Well, it is a big deal… to us." Mac says.

"What's a big deal to us? Harm asks feeling like the odd man out, but also mildly amused. He's never seen his old friend look quite so uncomfortable in his own skin.

Taking pity on Keeter, Mac smiles at Harm. "We can talk about it later. Just say thank you."

Puzzled, but willing to trust her direction, Harm smiles and says a genuine thank you.

"Like I said brother, it's not a big deal." He eases away from Mac and she lets him go. "Are we gonna work on this airplane; or what?"

* * *

As they approach Magellan, the uncharacteristically silent little girl in the back seat begins to worry Frank. He glances in the rearview mirror and finds her young face excruciatingly thoughtful. "Laura, are you okay back there?"

"Uh huh." she answers with a quiet sweetness.

"You know nothing that happened today was your fault; right? You didn't do anything wrong."

She smiles at him in the rearview mirror but the smile is somewhat sedate. "Yeah, I know, you already said." Laura pats the freshly bathed and groomed service dog in the seat beside her. "Thank you for getting Candy cleaned up. She smells much better now. She was stinky before." Laura stops rubbing the dog's ear and in response, the dog gently paws at her small hand, so she starts again and her furry friend leans into her touch."

Frank smiles at the pair of them in the rearview mirror and nods. "So you aren't upset?"

Laura shakes her head. "Uh uh. Not no more; why?"

"Well, you're awfully quiet back there. It's not like you not to talk. You're usually a little chatterbox!"

"I'm just thinkin' bout stuff; is all." Laura says matter of factly.

"Sounds serious." Frank chuckles. "Anything you want to tell me about?"

"Okay." she says agreeably and then pauses to squint as if collecting and arranging her thoughts. First, I can't wait to tell Uncle Harm and Aunt Mac about golf!"

Frank feels himself relax when she smiles genuinely, and with her usual enthusiasm.

"Oh, so you did have some fun?"

"Well yeah! Didn't you? I mean before that mean man yelled at us."

"Laura Honey, don't you worry about that mean man. He's just an old windsock anyway… And that was the most fun I have ever had playing golf!" He winks at her reflection.

"He's a windsock? Laura's wide eyes show confusion in the rearview mirror, but she offers him a smile.

"He's full of hot air. He will calm down in a day or two. He just likes to yell."

"How come?"

"Well now, I don't know for sure, but I think it's because, he scared he isn't a very important person, but he likes to feel important and people tend to do what he says when he starts yelling."

Laura squints; processing this new bit of information. "I still don't like him." She shakes her head emphatically after a moment's thought. "Maybe that's why my mom yells at people. You think?"

"Can't say. I've never met your mom."

"She likes to yell too." Laura says simply. The girl falls silent for a moment and then starts again tentatively. "Mr. Frank?"

He glances at her serious little face once more and then quickly returns his eyes to the road ahead. "Hmm, what is it?"

"Why did that lady at the clubhouse call me your granddaughter?"

"That lady at the clubhouse was Christine Mulgrove, and she just made an assumption when I told her you are my stepson's niece. Sometimes, parents of aunts and uncles are grandparents; like how your aunt Mac's mom is your grandmother. A lot of the old guys at the club bring their grandkids around. It's silly really. Most of them try to one-up each other. My grandson can play better golf than yours. And most of the kids don't know which end of golf club to hit the ball with."

"Is that what grandpas do? Teach kids to play golf?"

"I guess it's what some of them do. I don't think every grandpa plays golf. It's not exactly a rule." He glances in the mirror again when the next question doesn't come immediately. She's thinking again. He smiles and waits.

"Mimi says all kids have two grandpas; one from their mom and one from their dad. She says me too, but Aunt Mac's dad died before I was born. Aunt Mac doesn't like to talk about him - she doesn't even call him Dad. She calls him Joe - and Mimi says he wasn't very nice. So maybe it's okay he's not here. I don't even know who my dad is, so I don't know his dad either, but Mimi says I still have grandpas. I say it doesn't seem like it. It's kind of a bummer." She pauses for breath and after a quiet moment she launches in again. "You're Uncle Harm's other dad right?"

Charmed; Frank chuckles. "Yeah… even before he wanted me to be. It took him awhile to warm up to me.

"So… are you my grandpa now?"

"Well, you and your uncle Harm are related by marriage, not by birth. So, technically no, but here's the thing, I don't care about technically." He smiles for her again. "If I cared about technically, I wouldn't be Harm's other dad."

Frank watches her squint. "I know it's confusing, but all you really need to understand is that there are two kinds of family. There's family you share blood with. You're born a part of that family. Then, there's a different kind of family, and sometimes it's even more special than the first kind. The second kind is made up of the people you choose to call family even though they are not related to you. Like your aunt Mac and Chloe. Like Uncle Harm and Mattie…"

Laura nods. "Like you and Uncle Harm? You decided to be his other dad."

It's Frank's turn to nod. "Now you got it."

"So, if I can pick my own family… You wanna be my grandpa?"

'Aw damn!' He thinks. He'd already guessed this was where she was heading, and even though he'd guessed correctly, somehow it still catches him by surprise. He still has to work the words out around the lump in his throat. "Laura… it would be my finest honor."

Frank is mildly surprised to realize that they've reached their destination. He was so caught up in the conversation that the drive just slipped by. He finds a parking space, and just as he opens his car door to step out Laura asks, "That means yes; right?"

He closes his own door, then opens hers and waits for her to undo her seat belt. When she scoots toward him, he scoops her up and hugs her close. "That means yes!" He affirms.

Laura's little face lights up. "Yay!" she cheers as her dog bounds out of the car and runs in circles; caught up in the girl's enthusiasm.

Laughing, Frank closes the car door, rubs Laura's back, and steps on the end of the leash trailing behind her dog to keep her from running off. "Hang on there, Furface. I know you're excited, but we have to get Laura's walker."

The dog continues to pull on the immovable leash until Laura says, "Candy rest." then she immediately drops to her belly. Laura turns her attention to Frank. She's just excited because we are… And you say too much! She doesn't understand all those words at once. The dog trainer said use short sentences or commands; only one, two, or maybe three words. Hang on, we have to get Laura's walker… It's too much. My name is probably the only part she understood."

Frank nods genially. "I stand corrected." He tries to stoop with Laura in his arms to pick up the end of the leash and the girl giggles. "She'll get it for you; if you tell her to. It's much easier. She won't run away now. You can take your foot off."

Frank eyes the dog with mild uncertainty; especially after the day they've had, but he decides to give it a try. He moves his foot off the end of the leash and Candy just lays there; her warm brown eyes looking to Laura expectantly.

Laura looks of the ground, points to the leash, and gently commands, "Candy… Get it."

The sweet dog picks up the end of her own leash in her mouth and tries to give it to Laura. The dog backs away slightly when Frank reaches for it, and then she tries again.

Laura pats Frank's shoulder. "Give it to Grandpa Frank."

Trying to swallow the damn knot in his throat again; Frank smiles and takes the end of the leash. He eyes the dog first and then Laura. "She won't let me have it unless you tell her it's okay?"

"She listens to me. She has to, or she's not a very good service dog. I'm the boss. So, that means I have to be the boss, unless I tell her someone else is the boss for a little while."

"Ah." Frank says trying to step around to the trunk of his car. He's a bit surprised when the dog doesn't follow him. She just sits there like an unmovable rock, looking at Laura expectantly, and letting him tug on her leash.

Laura giggles. "See, that's what I mean. I told her to rest. She's not gonna move unless I tell her something else… Well, not unless a squirrel runs passed here. If she sees a squirrel, oh man! Watch her run! She even forgets about me! Don't you girl?"

Understanding that Laura is talking to her, Candy wags her tail, but otherwise doesn't move.

"Candy…" Laura says in a serious tone. Frank watches the dog's ears prick upward slightly as she waits for more. Laura pats his shoulder again and says "Go with Frank." and just like that, the dog steps to his side.

"I shouldn't teach her…" Laura lowers her voice slightly, so as not to confuse the dog. 'Go with Grandpa Frank.'because then, she will think everybody is supposed to call you Grandpa Frank, and if somebody just says Frank, she won't know what to do but, I said go with you. So now you're the boss. You don't have to be mean, but when she's working, you can't be really sweet or silly. If you are, she will think that it's play time. It's not a good idea; especially in a parking lot. She might get run over if she thinks it's free time like she did this morning … At the golf course." Laura groans at the memory. "Oh, I almost forgot, this part is important. Don't let her pull! If she pulls the leash, you stop walking and say 'Candy close!' And you don't move again until she does what she's told. Sometimes, I tie her leash my walker. So, we can't teach her that it's okay to pull. She'll get happy about something and pull me down."

Frank listens intently, impressed by the girl's comprehension of what the dog does and does not understand. When he sure he's got it all straight, he takes a step. Candy doesn't budge, and Laura giggles. "You have to tell her. 'Let's go!" She whispers in his ear. Remember, if the leash is in your hand; you're the boss. Be the boss… Or she will be." The little girl giggles again. "Trust me; you don't want Candy to be the boss." If she's the boss, we'll wind up chasing a cat… Or swimming in the pond at the golf course." Laura adds pointedly; reminding him of their morning adventure. "We'll never get to where Uncle Harm and Aunt Mac are; that's for sure! She's a service dog and that makes her a really awesome dog! But she's still a dog; not a robot! So, sometimes she's gonna act like a dog!" That's what the dog trainer told me." Laura nods emphatically.

Feeling a mild sense of accomplishment, Frank manages to retrieve her walker from the trunk of his car, carry both her and the walker, and walk the dog as they set out to find the right hangar.

"So…" He asks, adopting an air of seriousness. "If I'm Grandpa… Does that make Miss Trish Grandma?" He watches as Laura makes a peculiar face he doesn't know how to interpret.

"Only if she wants to be. Mimi doesn't like the word 'grandma.' That's why I call her Mimi." Laura shrugs. "I don't know why she doesn't like it; I just know she doesn't."

Frank nods curiously. "Some women don't like to be called 'grandma.' I think maybe it makes them feel old."

Laura gives this due consideration and then wants to know "Is being old bad?"

"No!" Frank says with feeling and then clarifies, "Well, at least I don't think it is. Being old is just… being old. It just means you've been here for awhile. In my book, that's a good thing… I guess some people just don't like it."

Laura squints. "Well, I like what you said, but I still don't want to make anybody feel bad."

"Laura Honey, I don't think you need to worry about that; not with Miss Trish. I know my wife pretty well. I've known her a long, long time, and I'm pretty sure she will think being called grandma is a precious gift; I think it would make her feel loved."

"Okay!" Laura nods with excitement. "Let's go find her and ask her! Is she here?"

"She should be by now. Her last message said she and Aunt Mac were through shopping and on their way here."

Laura looks around; her face aglow with an odd mix of mild displeasure and childlike wonder simultaneously. "What's all these big ugly buildings?"

Frank chuckles. "I suppose they are rather utilitarian in nature, but I wouldn't let your uncle Harm hear you say that. It might hurt his feelings. He loves places like this. These big ugly buildings are called hangars."

Laura makes a sour face. This one, Frank expected and is prepared for. "Hangars are garages for airplanes."

"Oh okay." Laura says cheerfully.

As they approach the open doors of the correct hangar Laura peers inside and first sees people she recognizes. She smiles in greeting and starts to call out. Mouth open, she stops, stunned speechless for a moment and Frank watches with pure delight as her eyes go wide. Her joyous exclamation makes him throw back his head and laugh with abandon.

"Holy big yellow plane; Batman!"

Immediately, all the people inside the hangar turn, glance at Laura, Frank, and furry friend and began to laugh along with Frank.

Laura watches in astonishment as her uncle climbs out of the flying contraption, steps onto the wing, and drops to the ground as if he's done it a million times before.

Harm trots over and lifts the girl from Frank's arms. "Hey you!" He says still laughing. "Does that mean you like Sarah?"

Laura returns his hug, but her gaze is still fixed on the stearman. She pokes him gently on the shoulder. "That's yours?"

Harm grins. "She's mine."

Laura cocks her head to one side and looks at him curiously. "She's a girl?"

"All planes are girls."

"All of them?" Laura asks incredulously.

Harm nods with assurance. "All of them."

"And this one; she's yours… All yours?"

Harm chuckles again; getting a kick out of her astonishment. "We told you I have a plane."

Laura looks at him as if he's suddenly turned purple. "Yeah, but you didn't tell me she was so cool lookin'! I thought she was like the one you went to London on."

"Oh," Harm says. "No, those are commercial airliners meant to fly hundreds of people at a time. Sarah's only meant for two."

"Does she work?"

"We're hoping to find out today. We're not quite through working on her yet."

Laura smiles when Mac approaches and reaches up to push the girl's bangs out of her face affectionately and she leans slightly in Harm's embrace when Trish steps close, kisses a fingertip and presses it to the tip of her nose.

"Hi " Laura giggles happily.

"Hello darling. Did you have fun at the golf course?"

Laura grins and nods vigorously. "But I gotta ask you something else first. A lady at the clubhouse, I already forgot her name again, she called me your granddaughter. Grandpa Frank said not technically, but he doesn't care about technically. We can be family if we want to! So, now he's Grandpa Frank. He thinks it'll be okay if I call you Grandma. I already talked to him about it. Mimi doesn't like it. That's why she's Mimi; and not grandma, but if it's okay with you, then you can be Grandma… But only if you want to… You don't have to."

Everyone in the hangar has fallen silent, and though mildly surprised by this new development, it takes Trish no time at all to reach up and pluck the girl from her son's embrace saying,. "Give me this child."

Trish hugs her fiercely until Laura finally complains quietly. "Uh, it's kinda hard to breathe!" At which point Trish relaxes her hold and covers the little girl's face with kisses until she starts giggling.

"How could anybody not want to be called Grandma?" She looks around noticing bright smiles, and the tell-tale hint of moisture in the corners of her son's eyes. Mac has moved in and tucked herself under Harm's shoulder. Pulling his arm around herself.

Quite certain she got the answer she wanted without actually hearing the word 'yes,' Laura snuggles closer to her newly chosen grandmother and smiles at them all for a long moment before she announces, "Okay, I'm ready, can we talk about golf now?"

Trish laughs at the abrupt change in subject. " Darling we can talk about anything you want!"

Laura stares up at her with big expressive eyes. "Do you know that they have a place on the golf course just for kids who had never played golf before? And that they give plastic golf clubs to little kids? We don't get metal ones. They're too heavy. That's a good thing too… case you accidentally hit somebody when you're trying to learn to swing the club. I think the metal ones would really hurt."

Frank sets down Laura's walker and chuckles grievously as he moves in and wraps an arm around his wife and the girl. "The plastic ones don't feel too good either honey."

Mac cringes. " Laura! You didn't hit Frank; did you?"

Laura has the good grace to look mildly ashamed. "Well… Only a few times… And never on purpose. I kept falling over, so he tried to hold me up. Only then, he was too close."

Picturing it in his own mind, and finding it quite entertaining, Keeter steps up; trying not to laugh. "So, outside of treating Frank like a golf ball; what did you manage to do today?"

Well, let's see. Today, he said don't worry about doing things the right way. Just have fun! He said, never walk around the practice green; walk on the practice green! That's where he showed me how to putt and how to chip. That was fun. For a long time, I didn't hit nothin' but grass. It's a lot harder to hit that ball than I thought. I tried, and I tried and I tried some more. I almost wanted to quit… Then I hit one. It barely went anywhere, and I got so excited I started jumping up and down and fell on my butt! But who cares, I hit the ball! Then, he said we needed a break. We went to the clubhouse and has turkey club sandwiches and root beer floats. I never had a root beer float before. After lunch, I got close to a whole once. I hit the ball, and the stupid ball went all the way around the hole and never went in. So, I picked it up and dropped it in." Laura bobs her chin as if to say 'so there.' Then we went to hit balls into the water!" The girl exclaims with great glee.

Keeter laughs. "I'm not much of a golfer kid, but I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to hit balls into the water. Not even by accident; much less on purpose."

While the rest of them watch and listen, Laura smiles sweetly and then rolls her eyes at him. "I already told you! He said, today, just have fun. I said I wanted to hit balls in the water. He said okay. They make a cool little splash… But not as big a splash as Candy does!"

Harm grins. "Candy jumped in the water? Was she chasing one of your golf balls?"

"Na uh. All day long; every time we went passed the pond, she wanted to jump in. I told her no! But, Grandpa Frank says dogs like her like the water. We were hitting golf balls and this one lady kept coming by. She wanted to play with Candy. I said no because she's working. The lady asked me if she was always working. I said no; not always, and then she wanted to know how Candy knows when she's not working. I told her that you have to tell her so. She asked me what you tell her, so I whispered in her ear, and she nodded and said out loud, "Free dog?"

Laura sighs heavily in exasperation. "Boy, Candy took off like a race car!"

Frank nods comically for the whole group. "Geronimo! I've never seen a dog do a belly flop before today."

Laura shakes her head in mock despair. "I yelled 'stay' as loud as I could but it was too late! She was gone! She was splashing water everywhere and having a really good time and people were laughing; then, this one man came out of the clubhouse and he was yelling and screaming, and Candy came back barking really loud! 'You get that dog out of the water right now!' Only, he was saying bad words!" Laura tattles in earnest.

Mac looks down at a dog in surprise and notices that she's freshly groomed and sporting a new bandanna around her neck. "Frank, this dog almost never barks! She either has to be very happy about something, or she barks because she thinks Laura's in trouble. That's it! She doesn't bark when people knock on the door. She doesn't bark when a car pulls into the drive. She will hardly even whine if she wants to go outside."

"That's it! Howard was making so much noise that Candy was protecting Laura! I was rather impressed. She was splashing around having a grand old time; making a huge mess, then Howard started yelling and all the fun stopped instantly! She came running back as quickly as she left! She barked, and when he quieted down and backed off, she did too. She's a smart dog. She never went after him. She never growled or bared her fangs, but she put herself between Howard and Laura and got his attention. She stood her ground. She made herself perfectly clear. I don't like you! You stay away from Laura! She belongs to me. You mess with her and I will eat you!"

Mac kneels, reaches out and rubs the dog's head in gratitude while Trish hugs the girl in her arms tightly. "Were you scared Darling?"

"Only for a minute! Then Candy came then the old grouch-face was scared!"

"Laura, baby, I understand he was not a nice man, but that's not very nice of you either; calling him names."

Trish shakes her head. Gently waving Mac off, she laughs and hugs the girl a little tighter still. "Aunt Mac is right darling. It's not very nice of us, but it's okay just this once. Howard Munson is a highly unpleasant man!" To Mac she says, "You don't know these people. For what we pay to be members there, just so Frank and play golf on the best course in town, they should serve Candy Filet Mignon in a gold plated dish and let her have the run of the place. Because the Munson family holds one of the longest standing memberships, they act like the own the place, which I wouldn't mind if they were polite sociable people. However, I haven't met a single member of the Munson family that I find even remotely agreeable. I completely agree with Laura, and just you wait. Next time I see Howard 'Grouch-face' Munson he's going to get a well deserved piece of my mind! Yell at my girl! Who does he think he is?"

Laura giggles quietly and looks up at Trish adoringly as she whispers loudly, "Grandpa Frank called him a blow hole and told him to put a sock in it!"

Trish throws her husband a look of surprise, but kisses the top of Laura's head and says, "Good for Grandpa Frank! What happened after that?"

"That's when we left! Well, first Grandpa Frank tried to dry Candy off the best he could. We went to the dog groomer because Candy smelled like a dirty wet dog. It took a long time to make her smell pretty again."

"Well, sounds like you've had a full day and it's not even dinnertime yet." Harm asks her. "Are you tired? Do you want to go home?"

Laura looks at her uncle as if he's lost his mind."Na uh! No way! We can't leave yet! I want to sit in the airplane!"


	29. History Repeats Itself

**Chapter 29: A Little Bit of History Repeating Itself **

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**Author's Note: **I think this should have been part of the previous chapter…

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Saturday, November 1, 2007

Magellan

1503 HRS

Mac watches Laura look at the plane with an expression that is equal parts wonder, indecision, and mild dread. Not entirely willing to admit it, the girl says slowly and quietly, "I… don't think I can get up there." She stands, leaning back against Trish, seeking not only minor physical support, but also the woman's affectionate touch and she is comforted by the gentle hand on her shoulder

Kneeling before her, Mac smiles brightly. "Who said you had to do it by yourself?" Rising to her feet with only the slightest 'follow me' nod of her head, Mac scoops the girl up and carries her across the hangar to the airplane with Harm close behind.

Easily taking the lead, Harm steps up onto a wing, then turns and reaches down to Mac for Laura. Before the little girl's uncooperative muscles, particularly those in her bad leg, have time to go stiff with worry, she is safe in her uncle's arms. Slowly, and with extreme care, he turns and delivers her to the seat of the aircraft; his wife standing at the ready spotting them both in case of mishap.

Laura looks around, somewhat mystified by how quickly she was relocated. "You guys did that really fast." She slowly pulls herself to her feet in the confined space of the cockpit and looks out and down at the hangar floor.

Mac smiles up at her. "He once hauled me up into this plane. I was a little bit hurt at the time, so there wasn't much I could do to help him. He did it all by himself and I'm about three times heavier than you. This was a piece of cake."

Turning slightly, so he can talk to them both, Harm teases and flashes his smile. "You're a lot less noisy than your aunt was too."

Mac glares at him, albeit somewhat playfully, and steps away rejoining the rest of their group. When she is near enough to be heard at a whisper, Trish smiles and asks curiously, "You were noisy?"

Mac laughs, nods, and wobbles her head side to side in a slightly comic 'Yeah well' gesture. "God, I hope so!" she whispers smiling broadly; remembering more of the adrenaline rush than the pain or fear she felt that day. "I had an infected bullet hole in my leg. He had me start the engine, he was a little busy on the ground dealing with sociopathic, gun toting poachers who wanted us both dead, I was unarmed, the plane was moving, I don't know how to fly, and we had a limited amount of space available for takeoff!"

Trish glances at her son; mild alarm making a fleeting visit in her bright eyes. Next, she studies Mac for a long moment. "Was it common for you two to have these by the skin of your teeth type adventures?"

Mac's tempered answer is, "Harm doesn't have my sense of timing. He's not going to be the one to show up five minutes early for everything. But, since that day; if not before, I've known I could always count on him to show up; even if it was just in the nick of time."

Keeter drops a friendly arm around Trish's shoulders. "Can't go wrong betting on him. You might get out by the skin of your teeth, but as long as he has anything to say about it, you will get out… And you might just have a little fun while you're at it too." He grins at Mac when she rolls her eyes. "Admit it! Before the gun toting poachers showed up, you were having a good time."

After a long second, Mac smiles at the memory and acquiesces "Walking through the foothills of the Appalachians alone with a flyboy who, at the time, I thought had an unnatural attachment with his airplane; okay… yeah, that was fun… but I was hoping for a different outcome."

Undeterred, Keeter shrugs. "I think…" he turns his attention to Harm as, several feet away, his friend quietly points out various instruments inside the cockpit for his young niece. "you got the outcome you were hoping for… It just took a few years longer than you wanted it to. Harm's got his own sense of timing. Not everybody has a working chronometer built into their heads. Speaking of which… are you ever going to tell me how you do that?"

Mac shrugs. "Jack, I told you a long time ago, it's a Marine thing."

Not buying what she's selling, Keeter shakes his head. "Is not!" he grins challengingly. "I know no other Marines who do that. That's a uniquely Sarah Mackenzie thing."

Mac shrugs again as Trish adds, "I didn't want to ask. I figure it's probably a question you're met with often, but even I'd like to know; how do you do that?"

Keeter tries again relying heavily on his usual charm. "You're married to my best friend. What, you don't think I'm worthy of the secret yet?"

Mac gives him a slightly uncomfortable smile. "Truth? There is no big secret. People just romanticize it; people like to think there's a big secret. There's not. The answer is; I don't know how I do it. I just do it. I have since I was nine. Maybe because, as a kid, I spent entirely too much time watching the second hand make its way slowly around the clock face, waiting for bad things to happen. My Persian grandmother had an uncanny ability to know precisely what people were thinking. Not just people she was acquainted with; even strangers. She knew people's private thoughts; what secrets they kept. She often said the same thing; that she didn't know how she did it, she just did it. I'd suggest that maybe my abilities and hers were somehow related; interconnected; maybe even genetic; if it didn't make me feel slightly freakish... paranormal even."

Skates and Frank approach, joining in on the quiet conversation. "Then why not just say that?" The female pilot asks. "Harm told me that he use to ask you that too. I think he said he started to get tired of the witty retorts after you told him something along the lines of, 'My mother's Swiss.'

Mac inhales deeply through her nose and is silent for an awkward second. "I've learned not to tell people that it makes me feel that way. You tell most people that you have an ability that even you find strange, and they suddenly feel it is permissible to agree that you are, indeed, odd. It goes over better if I play into people's fascination."

"Goes over better for who? You or them?" Keeter questions.

"Both, I expect." Frank supplies." Trish is always surrounded by artsy types. Some of them can be wildly eccentric. Some of them are just plain loony, but often enough the ones who are easiest to accept are the ones who embrace their own oddities. Do it wrong, and you're just fodder for the gossip mill. Do it right, and the thing that makes you weird, is also the thing that makes you wonderful."

Keeter turns his attention once more to Harm and the dark eyed little girl who is hanging on her uncle's every word; the two of them too lost in their own hushed conversation be concerned with the one he is involved in. From the floor of the hangar, he can see Laura. Her animated face bobs in and out of view because she's hardly tall enough to be visible outside the cockpit; except for when she stands, or sits up a little straighter in response to something her uncle says. "Does she do anything unusual or unique? He lifts his chin in Laura's direction. "If it runs in the family…"

Mac raises an eyebrow. "You mean, beyond freely speaking her mind without the fear of consequence? I think just being Laura makes her unique. The fact that she's largely untainted by what she's been through so far … She's indomitable. She's my pint-sized giant. Look at her. I put her up there because I can't stand the thought of her own limitations keeping her from doing anything that she wants to do. At the same time, I have to admit, I'm rather glad she can't climb into that thing unassisted. If she could we might be in trouble, because I guarantee you, it might take her a little while, but she's definitely smart enough to figure out how to fly that plane. If she could climb up there by herself, we'd turn around and she'd be airborne! Bye-bye Laura… " She watches Laura watch Harm. The girl delights in her initial discovery of the plane almost as much as she does in having her uncle's undivided attention, and Mac is suddenly struck mute by the familiarity of the moment.

Skates, Keeter, and Frank are all laughing; nodding in agreement with her until they realize that Mac has suddenly fallen silent; her reverent gaze fixed upon her niece and her husband. Their laughter fades slowly as Mac touches a hand gently to her own silent throat and instinctively wraps an arm around Trish's waist as a poignant smile she doesn't witness finds its way to the older woman's lips.

Trish returns her daughter–in-laws embrace as the Marine whispers, "You see it too; don't you?"

Emotionally unable to speak, Trish nods wordlessly, and they stand watch together as deja vu calls forth a time-worn image from the past to softly collide and mingle with the one before them in the here and now.

Skates passes a look between Keeter and Frank. "See what?" she queries in a whisper. She mentally traces their line of sight, her eyes coming to rest on Harm; but without comprehension. She returns her gaze to Mac and finds the Marine patting the pockets of her jeans as if she is looking for something.

Frank shakes his head. Mildly perplexed, he unconsciously steps closer to Trish.

Skates squints at Keeter and quietly demands, "What's going on?"

Keeter winks at her and whispers, "It's just a little history repeating itself…"

Skates' curiosity only intensifies and she nudges him; silently asking for more information as two more friends join them inside the hangar.

"Look who I found!" Chloe says stepping in; her arm around Harriet. "She was on your front porch when… What.. What's going on?" The teen looks around mildly puzzled by the indiscernible mood she senses. The air inside the hangar hums with some silent though or presence and after an illusive beat, she offers Laura a warm smile. "Hey kid! Are you growing wings?"

Mac finds her voice again and her urgent interruption carries with it the faintest hint of desperation. "Chloe, please tell me that you have a camera with you." She begs. "I left my phone in the car."

"Do I have a camera?" Chloe grins brightly as if she's been asked a dumb question. "Do I have a camera?" She swings the backpack slung over her shoulder to the floor, kneels, and opens it. She attempts to pass her favorite Rollieflex camera to Mac, but the spellbound Marine shakes her head.

"You take the picture. You'll do a far better job and that I can." Mac points at Harm, still standing on the wing leaning over Laura seated in the cockpit of his plane.

Still feeling as if she's stumbled upon some invisible magic, Chloe walks around for a moment trying to find the best angle while Harm notices, and is puzzled by, the unexpected glow of emotion shining in the eyes of both his wife and mother. After a few long seconds Chloe makes a decision, and with a little help from Skates, she moves the large heavy toolbox to a chosen location, and then climbs up, standing on top of it.

Laura understands only part of what is happening. She simply smiles brightly for the camera. Harm remains puzzled until the last possible second. As the shutter of Chloe's camera clicks, Mac finally sees the warm glow of an old memory in his blue eyes.


	30. And We have Liftoff

**Chapter 30: And We Have Liftoff! **

**Author's Note: The** comment made a few chapters ago regarding 'the world's best typo' is still cracking me up! Thank you dear reader. For any of you who may not know it yet, I use voice recognition software. This means, I dictate rather than type. Unfortunately, voice recognition software is not perfect. It doesn't hear the way humans hear. If we don't catch every word that is said to us, we can, and often do, filter and interpret based on context; usually without consciously thinking about it. VRS can't do that. If I say Munson but don't speak clearly because I need to pause for breath, because I'm distracted by food or drink, or because I yawn while speaking, then the computer might well hear Manson. That's how it happened! It was an unintentional funny, but I'm glad you got a laugh out of it anyway. The error has been corrected. Thank you for letting me know. As bad as old grouch-face is, I'm not ready to compare him to Chucky just yet.

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Saturday, November 1, 2007

Magellan

1600 HRS

"Mac, Skates, Chloe, Harriet, and Trish all toss the dirty sponges and wash cloths into the big bucket of murky water sitting on Sarah's starboard wing. "There, I think she's done!" Mac surveys their handiwork with satisfaction.

"She's certainly cleaner." Chloe declares with enthusiasm.

"No kidding!" Harriett chortles; happy she made the decision to extend her stay a bit. She hadn't originally planned on it, and she hasn't yet gotten the chance to talk to her newlywed friends alone, but there's time enough for that, and it feels only right that she be here to support Harm now. Of all the people here in this place with them it's easy for her to imagine that she may well be the only one who doesn't still silently harbor even an ounce of shock or disbelief over his self-imposed grounding. She understands. She understands on a level unattainable to the rest of them; and she wishes like hell that she didn't. She wishes no one ever had to understand. Grief that comes with a loss of a child makes people do things that only someone else who has suffered the same loss won't question. She looks around for Harm and she can't help but smile when she catches him watching over his niece; affection and pride clearly visible in his blue eyes. Yes, it's good to be here for this. He needs this.

Harriet allows her thoughts to return fully to the moment just in time to hear Laura say, "She's all shiny now too… much better!" The little girl happily clings to her dog's collar; using Candy's body for the support she needs to stay upright without her walker. Harriet watches as the dog circles the aircraft at a slow pace meant to accommodate her companion's needs and sniffs its landing gear curiously. After each good sniff the black Labrador sneezes harshly but then moves to the next wheel and repeats the process.

"Hey!" Keeter objects with playful enthusiasm. "What's her problem? She doesn't like airplanes? She's gonna get dog snot all over Sarah!"

Laura stops moving long enough to place one hand on her hip and look up at him in exasperation that the adults find comical. She rolls her eyes and squints in that way that tells him she doesn't think he's very smart. "Candy is looking for the bucket. That's why Aunt Mac put it up there on the wing. Candy's too big to get in that bucket, but she'd try anyway and make a big mess. She likes to play in water. But, that water's got cleaning stuff in it. She has allergies. That's why she sneezing; probably she smells the soap. It smells funny to me too. She can't not like airplanes. It's only the second one we ever saw! She's just trying to figure out what it is. Besides, dog snot won't hurt anything! She wipes her nose on me all the time!"

Jack Keeter screws up his face in the effort not to laugh and shoots Mac an inquiring look as he rubs a hand across the back of his neck.

Mac chuckles and raises her right hand as if she's about to take an oath. "Sad but true! I've seen her do it. She'll walk right up to Laura and rub her nose against whatever shirt Laura happens to be wearing. I took her to the vet. He said he could give her an allergy shot and it would be twenty five bucks a month just for the shot- that doesn't include the cost of the visit you have to make to get the shot- or I could take her home and give her a Benadryl tablet once a day when her allergies flare up. I didn't give her any this morning because it slows her down a bit. Sorry Frank," Mac offers him a contrite smile. "A little lethargy might have kept her out of the pond on the golf course."

Frank shrugs amiably and the look on Keeter's face communicates more curiosity than disgust. "Never mind the dog snot! How do you get a dog to swallow Benadryl?"

Mac looks at Laura and raises an eyebrow and the girl takes over once more. "That's easy! You hide it in a piece of cheese. Candy likes cheese! She thinks it's a tr… uh, she thinks it's a snack." The girl tries to avoid use of the word 'treat' but it doesn't really matter because upon hearing the word 'cheese' the dog promptly sits and looks at her young mistress with pleading eyes. Laura holds out an empty hand for her to sniff and lick. "Sorry girl. Don't have any." Laura says apologetically. "No cheese."

Still having heard the word she likes the dog is confused, so she sits and waits expectantly.

Laura tries different words. "All gone." She says still displaying her empty palm.

Candy whimpers once quietly and when it earns her nothing, she gives up and happily returns to her inspection of airplane landing gear with Laura at her side.

Keeping a watchful eye of Laura, Mac moves the wash bucket and its collection of sponges and washcloths to the top of the tall toolbox and then approaches Harm. She leads him a few steps away from the group before resting her hands on his waist and inquiring, "Think she'll fly?"

He flashes his best smile. "She should. Keeter and I have both checked her over a dozen times apiece."

"From nose to tail." Keeter calls over to them. "She'll fly. Except for the dust, they took good care of her over in Virginia."

"Well she's clean now. Dust free." Mac lowers her voice for his ears only. "Wanna take her up?" She watches Harm stare at the plane for a weighted moment.

At length, he gives a slight nod. "Yeah, I do. His solemn answer is laced with faint traces of tempered excitement.

"Want company?" She asks discreetly and then patiently watches him think it over. "Doesn't have to be me." She offers when he hesitates. "Keeter will go with you. Bet Skates would too."

After serious thought, he shakes his head. "Either one would go if I asked but I think I should go by myself… Not sure I'm ready for company."

She nods. "It's getting late in the day. How are your eyes? I remember you saying that the doctor told you the procedure would be good for at least a year. That was several years ago and it's been two since you've been in the cockpit for anything other than keeping your flight status?"

"Still good. At least they were eight months ago; the last time I did quals."

"Anymore surgery?"

He shakes his head.

"Okay." she hesitates and pokes his chest playfully. "But if things get fuzzy up there, you come down before the street lights come on… and in one piece please."

He touches her face. "I probably shouldn't tell you this, but if things get fuzzy up there, it won't be until just about the time the streetlights do come on."

Her chest swells with a deep breath. "Still." She admits slowly. "You'll be alright even if… It's not like you have to land Sarah on a carrier in the middle of the Pacific."

Harm is surprised when she steps away momentarily and wordlessly helps herself to the baseball cap on Keeter's head. He chuckles quietly when his surprised friend objects loudly.

"Hey, what's the big idea?"

Wholly unconcerned, Mac turns and offers Keeter a triumphant smile as she walks backwards, returning to Harm's side. "He needs a hat. I messed up and didn't bring him one. So, he gets yours." She declares as if it should be understood. She slaps the cap against her denim covered thigh to dislodge dust the pilot picked up while tending to the plane and then takes Harm's hand. She walks him to the plane and then climbs up after him as he settles into the cockpit.

He flashes another smile when she settles the cap on his head, backwards; the way he likes when he flies.

"Need anything else?" She asks returning his smile and leaning on her elbows as she'd done when she first arrived.

"A kiss?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Now, what makes you think I wanna kiss you?" She laughs.

"Okay, fine, don't." He shrugs as if it's no big deal. "Get off my wing."

She rolls her dark eyes, but the light he finds in their depths is warm and happy. While she does kiss him, she slips a small wallet sized photograph out of the back pocket of her jeans and when the kiss breaks, she sips the same small token into the pocket on the front of his shirt. Just before she steps down she whispers, "Say hi to your dad and Mattie for me."

He winks and signals for Keeter to give the plane's rotor a spin.

Keeter steps forward. At the ready, he waits until Mac is a safe distance away, noticing that she double checks to make sure the hangar doors are still open wide on her way to join their group of friends who have stepped to a far corner of the hangar.

She steps to Frank's left and takes Laura from his arms when the girl reaches out for her. She settles the girl on her hip. To Skates, who is nearest the dog, she says "Grab Candy's collar… Just in case." She smiles when Frank places one arm around her and one around his wife. To Laura, she says "Cover your ears baby." the instant before she gives Keeter a thumbs up sign.

Laura shakes her head. More interested in waving goodbye to her uncle than protecting, her hearing until the rotor spins, the engine catches and the aircraft roars to life. When the girl winces surprised by the unexpected noise Mac gently covers one ear, using the same hand to gently press the other side of the girl's head into her chest; effectively protecting both ears. She watches Laura's eyes go wide with delight as the plane starts to move slowly. The little girl recovers quickly from her shock, smiles brightly, and waves with enthusiasm as the bright yellow stearman leaves the hangar. When it's okay to do so, the group follows at a safe distance. When they are outside and the noise doesn't reverberate off hangar walls, Laura gently pushes her aunt's hand away from her ear and lifts her head. "Why is he going so slow? Doesn't he need to go faster?" She frowns.

"He can't just take off wherever he likes. He has to taxi to the proper runway first where he can get up enough speed to take off; once he gets permission to do so."

Laura squints. "He has to get permission?"

"Well yeah!" Her innocence makes Mac smile. "He has to wait his turn. You don't want him crashing into another plane; do you?"

Laura shakes her head adamantly. "Nobody better crash into him either!" she declares with such vigor that they all laugh.

She looks around; perplexed. "Hey, I'm serious. I didn't say anything funny! Everybody better wait their turn! He's the only uncle I got!"

Trying to stifle chuckles, the group walks as far as they can and when they stop Laura demands to know why " Hey, no fair! We stopped. Why did we stop?"

"Because we have to." Mac explains with wide eyes, a big smile and exaggerated patience. "We can't just go stand on the runway. That would cause as much a problem as not waiting your turn to take off.

Laura crosses her arms over her chest and bobs her chin with exuberance. "Aww man! I should've gone with him!"

Mac kisses the girl's forehead and gives her an affectionate squeeze. "Maybe next time, he needs to do this by himself."

Laura leans back in her aunt's embrace and raises an eyebrow. "When is he coming back?"

Mac laughs at the girl's impatience. "He hasn't even taken off yet!"

Undeterred, Laura repeats "When is he coming back?"

"In a little while!" Her aunt answers with feeling.

"Is he coming back before I get hungry?" She demands to know; a challenging scowl on her face.

Keeter throws back his head and laughs at the sky "Aren't you always hungry?"

"Pretty much!" Laura says with zeal.

"Then I hate to tell you this runt, but you might get a little hungry. I promise not to let you starve though."

Laura grins at him. "Who you calling runt?"

"That would be you."

Laura shakes her head in exasperation. "It's not nice to call girls' names. One day, some girl's gonna beat you up!"

Aware that all eyes are on the two of them, his grin stretches wide as he plucks the girl from her aunt's arms. "A couple of them have already tried." He assures as he lifts her to his shoulder. "Instead of giving me grief, how about you sit up there and watch your uncle take off."

Laura opens her mouth to say something, and then closes it when the bright yellow biplane changes course headed for its designated runway and then begins to pick up speed. She watches silently, as does the rest of her group.

When the wheels leave the tarmac a few seconds later; Laura cheers with delight and her dog barks. They all watch as the plane begins to climb. They all chatter happily; noisily. Well, almost all of them… All but two. The Marine Colonel of the group watches silently until the plane appears to be nothing more than a dot on the horizon. It isn't until then that she closes her eyes and says a silent 'thank you.' and she doesn't need to open her eyes when she feels an arm come to rest gently around her shoulders to know who is standing beside her. Without opening her eyes, without speaking, she inhales deeply and returns the gallery owner's hug.


	31. Making Contact

**Chapter 31: Making Contact **

**Author's Note: **I'm aware that there are a great many of you who read but do not review. While it certainly isn't mandatory, I'd just like to remind everyone that your thoughts and comments really do feed the muse. I don't expect or need all comments to be positive as long as they are respectful. I like knowing what my readers think. So, if you haven't done so yet, think about dropping a line or two, won't you? Come be part of the creative process.

* * *

Saturday, November 1, 2007

Magellan

1625 HRS

Chloe, Skates, and Harriett stay behind with Laura and her furry friend, putting away tools and cleaning supplies, while Mac, Keeter, Frank, and Trish make a quick visit to Mac's Jeep. When the four return, their arms loaded with various items, Laura begins to question them.

"What is all that stuff?"

As Mac answers, Frank and Keeter set down a large ice chest and began to unfold the lawn chairs that were stacked on top of it during transit. "Most of this stuff is to entertain you." She tells the girl with a bright smile as she unfolds a blanket and spreads it on the floor in one corner of the hangar. The Marine settles on the blanket, kicks off her hiking boots, and opens her arms to the girl.

Laura pushes her walker to the outer edge of the blanket. Leaving it there and concentrating on her balance, she closes the distance between them and topples happily into her aunt's lap. She's content to be there while Mac takes her sneakers off, but when her aunt begins to remove her leg brace she frowns and complains loudly. "Aww hey, no! Aunt Mac, I don't wanna take it off. I can't move good without it." She tries to still her aunt's hands.

Mac gently pushes the girl's hands aside and continues as she smiles at Trish over the top of Laura's head when the older woman selects a lawn chair and settles close to the edge of the blanket with a well packed tote bag in her lap and a small folding lap tray that she stands on end and leans against the side of her chair for later use. "I know you can't move well without it." Mac tells the girl. "That's why we're taking it off."

As Trish watches, Laura scowls and crosses her arms over her small chest. "No fair!"

To the rest of the group Mac says, "Don't mind us, we're going to do an impromptu mini therapy session to try and head off what I know is coming. To her young niece she says, "Laura you've been on your feet for most of the day. You're tired and I can tell by looking at you that…"

"Na uh Aunt Mac, I'm not tired…" The girl struggles not to yawn but loses the battle and then, annoyed as much with herself as her aunt, her face contorts again in a new scowl.

Mac continues, as if her niece hadn't spoken at all. "And if you don't take it off now, you're going to wake up crying at 0400 with a killer leg cramp that won't let go. It's time to be still. You can entertain yourself with the things we've brought for you, or we can go get something to eat and come back later, but no more walking."

Nestled in her lap, Laura plants the crown of her head against her aunt's chest and squints at her upside down. "We're not leaving here without Uncle Harm! Are we? I don't want to!"

The two women nearest to her exchange another knowing smile as Mac answers, "I figured you'd feel that way."

"That's probably why they bought you snacks."Harriet chimes in, recognizing and choosing to contribute to the effort to distract the little girl, as she opens the ice chest.

This news peeks Laura's interest and she tries to stand up so she can peer inside the ice chest but Mac quickly grabs the shoulder straps of her overalls; gently anchoring her into place with one hand while she removes the girl's extra long socks with the other. "Harriet will bring you some goodies in a few minutes. Now turn around and lay down. Don't make me sit on you!" Mac teases the girl and pauses to gently tickle her ribcage before guiding Laura to turn and face her.

Helping themselves to a variety of snack foods and drinks, Skates, Harriett, Keeter, Chloe, and Frank gather round taking up places and chairs near Trish who watches her daughter-in-law lay the girl down on her back and then slowly and gently begin to manipulate Laura's foot, ankle, and leg in a series of stretching exercises that require the girl to both, contract and relax various muscles at intervals. Aware of Laura's therapy sessions, she reasons that the girl must be used to the process. She seems to know what to do without being told and they watch this and\or feed themselves for several minutes as Mac and the girl stretch and flex Laura's muscles almost as if on autopilot.

While they work Laura asks, "You think Uncle Harm's okay up there?"

"He's probably having the time of his life kid." Keeter tries to assure her as he feeds her dog a carrot stick from a chilled plastic baggie, but Laura looks to her aunt for the answer.

"He's fine baby."

"How do you know? What if he gets lonely up there all by himself?"

"He's not by himself." Mac chuckles quietly. "And he's certainly not lonely."

Laura pushes herself up slightly on her elbows and gives her aunt the same bizarre look she gives Keeter when she's questioning his intelligence.

Skates chuckles "I guess you're not the only one she looks at like that." She teases him.

"Aunt Mac I think you bumped your head or something. Nobody was in the other seat."

Mac pokes the girl gently in the belly. "No, I have not bumped my head. Your uncle never flies alone. Not even when he does. Trust me; I've flown with him enough times to know. He's up there right now making contact with all of us. He's thinking about Mattie, you, me, and his dad. He's got a little piece of each of us up there with him. That stearman is pretty crowded right about now.

Laura squints incredulously, still not certain about Mac's words. "I still think you bumped your head a little bit."

Mac smiles at her. "Last summer when Liam was away at camp you missed him an awful lot. You kept thinking about all different things you wanted to tell him. You ever think about him so hard that you could hear his voice inside your head?"

The conversation pauses briefly when Mac places her palm against the little girl's foot and Laura immediately tries to push her hand away by straightening her bent knee.

"Somebody's getting stronger." Mac says; caught slightly off guard. She smiles at him, grateful for his encouragement, when Frank winks at Laura. The Marine bends the little girl's knee again, locks her elbow in place and says, "Try again."

"Uh huh…" Laura stalls again; wrinkling her nose with the effort push Mac down again. She achieves some movement, but not nearly as much as before until Mac smiles at her and eases up on the pressure a bit. "Guess I heard him a couple of times."

"Well, that's what I mean. Harm's got us all up there with him. He's okay. You don't need to worry about anything. If he were in trouble, I'd know."

"How?"

Mac smiles and shrugs. "He'll send me a message."

Laura starts to nod until Chloe giggles and says, "Yeah, he'll send a message all right, and she doesn't mean a text message."

Mac rolls her eyes. "Hush Chloe. Don't confuse her."

"Hey, I'm smart! I am not confused. What you talking about Chloe?"

Opening a package containing two granola bars, Chloe joins them on the blanket as Mac begins to gently massage the muscles in Laura's leg. Chloe hands one of the snacks to Laura. She pops a piece of the other in her mouth, munches for a moment, and then uses a hand to shield her mouth from view while she talks around what's left of it.

"Mac has this really cool thing she does when somebody she cares about is in trouble. She just knows… And she figures out a way to help. She's done it for me before. My horse threw me because he got spooked. I hurt my ankle and got lost. I was in a cave in Vermont. Mac was in DC, but she got the message, got on a plane and cane to find me. She's helped your uncle out of a couple of really bad jams too. She's kinda spooky… But in a good way."

"Kinda spooky isn't the half of it." Mac mutters, and then adds more clearly. "We need to change the subject."

"Aww why?" Laura inquires; eager to hear more.

"Because the current conversation will not lead us anyplace good. It's not something I do all the time. It only happens when I need it to. And it never happens when something good is taking place. Chloe thinks it's cool. The only cool part about it is that I get to help people who are important to me. That does not mean that it's fun! The last time your uncle was in trouble, it took me a week to set things right again."

"What things?" Chloe asks, mildly surprised.

"Doesn't matter what things. What you need to understand Chloe, is that doing that takes a mental, emotional, and physical toll on me. It's not just some cool party trick. Just thinking about it, not to mention, talking about it makes me edgy. It stirs up too many bad memories… Memories that nobody here in this hangar wants to hear about." She starts to add, 'especially not while he's airborne' but then she glances at Trish and Skates and thinks better of it. Mac turns her full attention back to her niece. "All you need to know baby, is that Uncle Harm is fine right now."

"How long's he gonna be gone?" Laura wants to know.

"That, I can't answer with any real certainty; maybe half an hour, maybe a couple of hours. He's got some things to sort out in his mind. That's why I asked if you wanted to go get something to eat and come back later."

Laura shakes her head adamantly. "We got snacks. I'm stayin'. He can take as long as he wants."

Mac smiles at the girl and reaches out to tousle her hair before reaching for the bag still waiting in Trish's lap. "You want sidewalk chalk or paper and art pencils." Mac asks while she removes a somewhat lumpy looking pillowcase from the bag.

Knowing what's about to happen, Laura sits up, places her back against the wall of the hangar and straightens both legs. As Trish and the others watch curiously, Mac puts her socks back on her, but leaves her shoes off and then flattens the pillowcase over the knee of her bad leg.

"How's that?"

"It's okay, but I want food first; before art pencils."

"What's in the pillowcase?" Frank voices the question of the moment.

"Two pounds of beach sand; double packed in zip lock bags. It's light enough that it won't do any damage, and heavy enough to fully extend her knee and provide resistance while she sits and draws… Or whatever activity she chooses. She likes to do her artwork at the same time. It distracts her from the slight tension she feels in the back of her knee. It stretches the muscles gently without the harsher impact of a workout. Her therapist, Charlie, recommended something like it called Thera-sand. Two pounds of that stuff cost nearly $30.00. I reminded him that I live on the beach and told him there was no way on Earth I was paying $30.00 for sand! I don't care what fancy name they gave it. Laura can sit like this for almost twenty five minutes without serious discomfort.. When we first started, about a month ago, she could barely make it through five minutes. She's making progress."

As she talks, Mac unfolds the tray that is waiting beside Trish's chair and settles it over the girl's lap. At the same time, Harriet hurries about in her usual motherly way fetching the snack that was promised earlier. "You want PB &amp; J or chicken salad sweetie?" She picks up one sandwich certain she knows what the answer will be and has to set it down again in surprise a second later.

"Peanut butter and jelly please… Unless Grandma Trish made the chicken salad."

"Really?" Harriet asks the girl as Trish nods quietly. "You'll eat chicken salad?"

"I will if she made it. When my mom makes it, it's nasty! She uses that chicken that comes in the can. It never tastes right, and it feels even weirder, but Grandma Trish makes it with the real chicken; the kind you have to cook first. It's got lots of good stuff in it too; pieces of apple and nuts."

Trish laughs. "You should have seen her face the first time she saw me make chicken salad. The child was thoroughly confused by all the ingredients that go into it. It also has celery, onion and boiled egg in it, with just a dash of salt and pepper."

"I was only confused because Mom just opens the can of chicken and puts it in a bowl with mayonnaise and relish. She puts garlic stuff on it too. It's yucky!"

Smiling at the look of disgust on her face, Harriet gives Laura a paper plate loaded with a sandwich cut into quarters, carrot sticks, and grapes along with a napkin and a juice box; the straw already protruding from the top. "Laura sweetie, do you think you could teach my boys how to eat something besides peanut butter and jelly? I used to like the stuff, but with three little boys at home, I've had enough PB &amp; J to last me ten lifetimes."

Laura giggles. "What about Jenny?"

"Her brother's think she's weird. She hates the stuff. She likes turkey with mustard. Actually, Jenny is weird. She likes mustard on everything; including broccoli… or even pancakes and sausage!"

Stepping over to the ice chest to make a plate for herself, Mac frowns in mild disgust. Mustard? On pancakes and sausage? I like combinations of food that some people find odd, but that's a bit much; even for me."

Harriet nods. "I blame Bud! One weekend while I was visiting my parents he bought some of those frozen microwavable pancakes and sausage on a stick because the kids said they wanted pancakes for breakfast. If you don't see the box they come out of, they look just like corn dogs. So… Jenny was bound and determined to have mustard on her breakfast corn dogs. He let her. Now, even when I make homemade pancakes with sausage for breakfast on the weekends, the girl rolls a piece of sausage up inside a pancake and dips it in a glob of mustard."

Chloe and Skates draw laughter from the group when they both shiver in revulsion and say, in perfect unison, "I hate mustard… Unless it's on a hot dog."

Harriet wrinkles her nose. "I'll eat it, but I'd rather not. It's not exactly my favorite condiment."

Trish shrugs. "Most kids Jenny's age like unusual foods or combinations of them. Some doctors believe it has a lot to do with the individual's brain development, and there's convincing literature if you're interested. When Harm was that age, I thought for sure something was seriously wrong with him! The boy would steal a bell pepper from the refrigerator and bite into it like it was an apple! I've never seen another child do that; not before or since."

Laura giggles. "He's still weird Grandma! He won't eat meat! But, my doctor and Charlie both say I don't need to be a veggie-terian yet, so he still cooks it for me and Aunt Mac." She grins happily and bites into a square of chicken salad sandwich.

* * *

At a much higher altitude, soaring somewhere over the blue water of Imperial Beach with his loved ones and friends on his mind, Laura's uncle waits for the inevitable knot to rise in his throat. He waits for the expected tightness around his heart and he's oddly, yet pleasantly, surprised when these sensations do not materialize. Yes, he feels sadness, but it's not overwhelming; like he thought it would be. For more than two years he's avoided being up here whenever possible for fear that her presence, in spite of her absence, would be too great, and therefore unbearable. He was wrong. There's a kind of bittersweet peace in his - not so solitary - flight. Before taking off, he's taken the photo Mac had given him out of his shirt pocket, and he hadn't been surprised to find Mattie smiling back at him. Before the runway fell away from the wheels, he'd put the photo back into his pocket; close to his heart. Now, he finds himself laughing aloud when his stomach grumbles with hunger, and just as clearly as if she were sitting beside him, he can hear her voice.

"Geez Harm, it's about time you showed up! I've been waiting for you. What? You forget how to feed yourself?"

Sarah rolls, dives, and then climbs again; reaching a new high.


	32. Messages

**Chapter 31: Messages **

**Author's Note: **With regard to the title, there are quite a few well sent and received messages in this chapter – not just the big one at the end. Heads up, there's a lot happening here!

* * *

Saturday, November 1, 2007

Magellan

1659 HRS

Mac takes the seat that Keeter recently vacated on Trish's right and spends a few moments enjoying the chicken salad that her niece is so fond of. She pops the top on a can of Coca-Cola as she chuckles at the look of utter consternation on Keeter's face. For the last five minutes, he's been beside Laura, sitting on his heels in the corner, trying with next to no success to get the girl's dog to play fetch. He'd found a bright pink tennis ball in Laura's tote bag, and assumed it belonged to the canine. He'd easily tossed it across the hangar. Candy had retrieved it only after Laura gave him the proper command to use and bright it back to him exactly once. The second time he threw the ball and issued the same command she looked at him, she looked at the ball, back at him, and then she lay down on the floor and yawned as if she were bored.

Harriet, Skates, and Chloe smile brightly while Laura giggles. "See, I told you she wouldn't. She will get it once. After that, if you throw it again, it's your problem. Candy says, you can go get it yourself!"

Keeter looks down at the dog before him and shakes his head woefully. "You call yourself a service dog!"

Candy's only response is to huff a deep breath out through her nose.

"Go fetch!" He tries again; with enthusiasm.

The dog closes her eyes and Laura giggles again. "I told you, it's 'get it' not 'fetch!' She doesn't know what that word means."

"It means the same thing."

Laura rolls her eyes and gestures with her hands as she talks. "I know that! She doesn't. She's just a dog; and she knows 'get it' not 'fetch.' You think you're just playing. To her, that's not play time; its work time."

Keeter squints at the girl. "Playing fetch is work?"

Laura nods adamantly, and with no small amount of exasperation.

Deciding to help him out a bit; Mac calls, "Jack." She tilts her head back slightly and gestures 'come here.' with one hand. When he obliges, Mac explains quietly as Frank and Trish listen in, "Laura knows what she's talking about. She just has a hard time articulating what she knows. She's only six, be patient with her. Candy has been trained to respond to the words 'get it.' Not 'fetch' just as Laura said. The dog doesn't understand that the two commands are interchangeable, and for her it is a job. It's a job that she's paid to do. It's not play. We use 'get it' so that she will retrieve things Laura drops. This significantly reduces the number of times Laura loses her balance and falls in a given day because she doesn't have to lean over to pick up what she drops. So, it's very important that you don't unintentionally undermine Candy's training. You want to play, but she thinks it's work, and you're not offering her any form of payment for the job you're asking her to do."

He'd looks across the hangar and eyes the dog thoughtfully for a moment before shaking his head. "She's paid? How do you pay a dog? And why not teach her fetch? Everybody knows fetch!"

Mac smiles. "That's precisely why we don't use the word 'fetch'. Look, say you take Laura to the park on a Sunday afternoon. It's a nice day, and every person out there with a dog and a ball,… or maybe a Frisbee, is playing fetch. Candy is trained to respond to commands; most often from Laura or myself but that does not mean she doesn't respond to other people on occasion. Do you want her to respond to every command she hears, or do you want her to give the most of her attention to Laura. Candy can't do the job she's meant to do if she gets distracted every time she hears someone using what we think of as an ordinary, well known, dog command."

He nods. "Okay, that makes sense."

Mac continues. "Now, paying her is easier than you think." She demonstrates by loudly snapping her fingers once and calling the dog's name. Candy trots over obediently. "Get it!" Mac orders enthusiastically "Get ball!"

Keeter watches the dog look at Mac, and then her gaze travels across the hangar to the ball and back again, just as she did with him. She thinks about it for a second or two and then crosses the hangar, picks up the ball, and returns it dutifully. When Mac has the ball in her hand, she says the word 'Yes!' Candy immediately sits and waits for Mac to offer her a carrot stick which she eagerly chomps on. "Good girl! Again?" Candy wags her tail and Mac tosses the ball. Without waiting for a command, the dog charges after it.

Mac hands Keeter a carrot stick. Think supply and demand Jack. If you're going to demand that the ball be brought to you, then you have to supply something in return; a treat, a few minutes play time with a toy she likes, or at least an affectionate belly rub. It's good training reinforcement for her, but remember; for her, it's not play. It's work, and she doesn't work for free. Would you?

He grimaces in response to the question as Candy trots back; eager to be rewarded and Mac instructs. "You take the ball, say 'yes' and then pay up; always in that order. In this case, 'yes' is basically 'atta girl' or "job well done.' It lets her know that the job is over and now it's time to be paid. Payment doesn't always have to be food, but that is her favorite form of payment. You don't have to reward every single time, but often enough so that she wants to do her job. If you aren't going to offer compensation after each repetition, then don't say 'yes' when a reward isn't being offered. If she hears either 'yes' or 'treat'…." Mac pauses and gestures when the dog promptly sits and wags her tail happily.

"I got it." He chuckles.

Mac gives the dog a minuscule morsel of her chicken salad sandwich. "If you say it, follow through. Otherwise you'll undermine her training… And carrot sticks are okay, but let's not feed her too much bread. We try to keep her healthy. She'd be three times her size if we routinely fed her unhealthy stuff as payment for her work. Laura has a pouch attached to the front of her walker. It has something suitable in it, if you'd rather keep the carrot sticks for yourself. Also, 30 minutes is just about her limit. She's got a short attention span. Do the same activity, repeatedly, for more than 30 minutes; she's going to get bored and quit on you, even if you do offer compensation."

She hands the ball over. "And listen to Laura." She reminds him. "She's got a rather simple way of explaining things, but she knows her stuff. She made it through two weeks of transfer training to be allowed to bring Candy home. Practices vary from one agency to the next, but the agency that trained Candy only expects adults to complete one week of the training. Given Laura's age, they required two full weeks. Training sessions were no less than six hours a day. That's pretty impressive for a kid her age. Most agencies that train dogs like Candy only give them to adults. Some will work with older children; adolescents. Kids Laura's age don't often have the maturity necessary to be the alpha personality which is necessary for a successful pairing."

Keeter flashes his grin and jokes. "Alpha? You're saying that Laura is essentially Candy's pack leader."

Mac smiles and pivots her head side to side. "Basically, yes!"

"And what's transfer training?" Keeter raises an eyebrow.

"The agency that trained Candy teaches all their dogs basic obedience skills prior to pairing them with anyone. Once a person and a dog are matched, the person arrives for one or two weeks of what they call transfer training. Decisions about the length of training are made based on a variety of factors; not just the age of the candidate, and 'transfer training' means that they literally transfer training responsibilities from their agency staff to the person being partnered with the dog. They teach the human partner how to train the dog to do specifically what that person needs the dog to do. Because of Laura's age, they asked me to sit in on her training sessions so that I'd be equipped to help her out with training when she needs it. It's ironic that, with regard to Candy, the most common question that Laura and I get asked is, 'How long did it take to train her?' People are always surprised by the reply. The answer is, we're not done. Training never stops. The last time I counted, and it's been a couple of months, Candy could respond to 18 different commands. We've got a few new ones we're working on too. Plus, she has skills she doesn't use every day, so her training has to be refreshed and renewed weekly. I laughed when the dog trainer first told me that it would be like having a three year old by Laura's side constantly, but she wasn't kidding. When I laughed, she simply asked, 'When was the last time you only had to remind a three year old how to do something once?" Mac smiles at the pilot. "Go play with her, and let Laura guide you. Just remember that what you think of as play is actually Candy's job."

Nodding, Keeter turns on his heel and taps his thigh. "Come on Fur Face."

Candy remains seated at her feet until Mac chuckles and says, "Go with Jack." At which point the big dog trots after the man, and easily falls into step with him; though she occasionally darts in front of him to see if he has any more carrots.

"That's rather remarkable." Trish speaks up. "I didn't know all that. Of course, now that I've heard it, it all makes sense."

Nodding; Frank supplies, "Laura explained some of it to me in the parking lot awhile ago. She didn't seem to have any trouble articulating what she wanted to say then. I understood her just fine."

Mac shrugs amiably. "Yes, but you're a little more patient than Jack is Frank." She says discreetly. "Plus, he just enjoys teasing Laura. I think they, not so secretly, adore each other; and the way they choose to show it is in the form of competition to see which one can annoy the other the most. Sometimes it's an act, but sometimes Laura genuinely gets frustrated with him and when she gets frustrated she gets just a little bit tongue-tied."

"I've noticed, Keeter has that effect on a lot of females." Elizabeth Hawkes announces merrily as she and Harriett join them. "Unfortunately for him though, this apparently doesn't work on the women in my family, if anything, he has the opposite effect on us."

"Oh really?" Mac raises an eyebrow; sensing that there should be more to follow such a comment.

Skates nods and chews on the inside of her lower lip. "Before coming here, I wanted to stop by the hospital and check on my aunt; to see how she was and to let her know where I'd be. We were there for less than ten minutes… and that's where he met my mother."

Mac squints as unspoken words are left to hang in the air. "I take it that means it didn't go well?"

Chuckling, Skates shakes her head. "No, it didn't, but it did go exactly like I thought it would."

Mac gives her another questioning look and then she eyes Jack Keeter thoughtfully for a moment. She shakes her head. "I know we all pick on him, and that he's rather flamboyant, but he's got charisma oozing out of his ears. People like him in spite of his faults. Well, I guess… most people. Trish likes him. Hell, I like him! And I'm certain he would dial it down a notch the first time he met a woman's mother. He's colorful… not stupid or rude. What could he possibly have done or said in less than ten minutes."

Shaking her head; Skates waves, as if to clear the air. "I didn't mean to give you the wrong impression. He didn't do anything wrong. He was cordial, charming as usual, and even polite. Blame it on my mother's preconceived notions about men. All he did was smile at her. That's it; I swear! That's all he had time for. That, and when I introduced him to Aunt Ellie, he offered her more of a bow than a nod. But anyway, one of the medications that Aunt Ellie is on dries out her mouth. When we arrived, she was complaining about this. It took Keeter all of 20 seconds to volunteer to go find a nurse, some ice chips, or a Popsicle but he assured Aunt Ellie, that no matter what, he would not come back empty handed."

Skates lowers her voice to a more discreet level. "As soon as he was out of the room my mother asked, 'Elizabeth, what are you doing with that man?' In a tone that readily implied that he might have some communicable disease, and that I've obviously lost my marbles. She went downhill from there. I mean, the man was in the room for less than 30 seconds! And, in that short time, as I said, it went exactly as I expected it would. My mother decided she hates him and my Aunt Ellie decided she loves him."

"I can see that!" Harriet admits happily. He's a man people are going to have that sort of reaction to. There is no middle ground with a man like him. You either love him, or you hate him. It's too hard to be ambivalent about somebody like Keeter; but your mother and her sister must be two wildly different women to experience reactions that are… polar opposites, to say the least."

"They aren't sisters. She's actually my mother's aunt; my great aunt. She is my grandfather's sister. She's always been more of a grandmother to me that my grandmother actually was; it that makes sense. Yes, as women go, they are polar opposites!" Mom made her opinion known, and Aunt Ellie's reply was, 'Oh. Meredith, for Heaven's sake, stop asking ridiculous questions.' She went on to say that she knows exactly what I'm doing with Keeter. Then, she hugged me and said 'Good for you honey. Have some fun for me!' which didn't surprise me in the least, but it nearly gave my mother a stroke. When she recovered her ability to speak, she was loud enough for the person in the next room to hear her clearly. 'Eleanor! That man is at least 50 years younger than you!'

Hawkes pauses, smiling patiently, until her companions' laughter dies down. "Aunt Ellie just shrugged. 'Meredith, I'm old and sick… Not dead… Well, at least not yet anyway!" She actually laughed. That's the first time I've heard Aunt Ellie laugh since I got here. If it won't make him uncomfortable, and I don't imagine there is much that makes Jack Keeter uncomfortable, I'm going to take him back to visit her. I think it might be good for her."

Trish laughs. "Getting him to go back should be a piece of cake. Just tell him what your aunt said. That'll do the trick! If for some bizarre reason stroking his ego doesn't work, I'll order him to go back."

Skates raises a skeptical eyebrow. "Does that work? I mean, I can see women bossing Harm around…" She smiles. "It's not a hard thing to do. I've done it myself. Harm can be one breath away from dead. A girl can whisper in his ear, tell him that he'd better get his act together… or else… and his pulse will pick up… but Keeter? Somehow, I think he would dig his heels in."

Trish's satisfied smile is that of the cat who swallowed the canary. "It works when I do it." She says with hushed merriment.

Laughter erupts from somewhere deep inside Frank's chest as he reaches out and pats his wife's knee. "That's because he's mildly afraid of you honey." He addresses the group as a whole. "What the fear doesn't cover, respect does. She talks to him as if he's Harm's brother; just like he's one of her own."

"Yes I know." Skates smiles. "I've seen it firsthand."

Undisturbed by this fact, Trish shrugs. "He is one of my own! His dad took off before he was born. His mother died unexpectedly while he and Harm were still at Annapolis. He took it hard. Even before her death, he was rather free spirited… And they were close; I mean really close. After she died, I was afraid he'd go completely wild if somebody didn't step up and knock some sense into the boy's head. Nobody else was there to do it, so I guess I appointed myself. It was easier than I expected it to be. He didn't fight me on it. At least... not for too long." She laughs quietly at some private memory.

Harriet's blue eyes dance merrily. "They'd all be lost without us. The lot of them!" she gives Mac the lion's share of her attention. "I talked to Bud this morning via Face Time. I told him that you two asked us for a favor. You know Bud. He didn't even ask one question, his automatic response was 'Sure honey, whatever they need!' I had to remind him that there are times when you want to know what the favor is before you commit to it. I love him for being such a generous friend, but sometimes... "

Mac can't decide whether to cringe or laugh and this is plainly evident in the stricken, yet comical, expression on her face. "Harriet!" The Marine reaches out to squeeze her friend's hand affectionately as she chastises gently. "Harm and I intended for you to go home and talk to Bud about that face to face!"

Harriett waves this aside as if it is of no consequence at all. "First, we were face to face. There were just 3000 miles between us. Second, Bud and I have four children under the age of ten. We're quite accustomed to having conversations whenever, wherever, and however the opportunity presents itself; even highly important conversations. If we couldn't do that, we'd never talk at all. Usually I'm shouting at him from downstairs, or he's grumpy and complaining about something while we're on opposite sides of the bathroom door. Trust me, this was okay. Besides, I'm glad I stayed, for this." She gestures to the hangar around them."

She pauses with uncertainty for a long moment. "Mac, I wouldn't bring this up now… except… Well it might cheer him up, if he's having a hard time up there. I don't know for sure though. I don't want to overshadow or minimize the reason he's flying today…"

Mac cocks her head to one side and furrows her brow. "I'm not quite sure how to respond. What's on your mind Harriet?"

Well, like I said, I talked to Bud and… We're in! At least for the initial round of tests. I guess it's okay to tell you like this since we did have this conversation sitting in Trish's office last night with about 80 strangers and milling around in her gallery. Do you think…" Harriet stops when Mac reaches out again; this time, covering both the blonde's hands with one of hers.

"Harriett stop! Are you sure?" Mac searches her face with warm wide eyes.

"That is what you want, right? You guys didn't change your mind last night after you dropped me off?"

Nervous, happy laughter bubbles out of Mac. "Yes, it's what we want. No, of course we didn't change our minds. I was afraid I'd go half mad waiting for an answer. I certainly didn't expect one today."

"Well, I mean, it's just the tests; right? I can take the tests and ask the doctor as many questions as there are phone numbers in a DC phone book if I need to?"

Nodding, Mac hands the plate in her lap to Trish, who sits nearest, and is only too happy to be of help. She stands and pulls Harriett into a fierce hug. "Ask her all the questions you want, as many times as you want. Ask me anything you want. If I don't know the answer yet, I'll find it. I promise."

Even before the embrace ends, Harriet's first question is tri-fold. "Is there a way for you in touch with Harm now? Or should we even try? Should we wait until he comes down? I don't know what's best. Tell me what you think."

Trish smiles and draws the attention of both women with her patient words of advice. "I know nobody asked me… But I think it's a fabulous idea. One child can never replace another, but everybody here knows that, especially you at Harm. No one here thinks you're trying to do that Harriett. Trust me, he won't mind getting this news today; won't mind if it all. If he's in a bad place right now, it will help to ease his pain. If he's in a good place, this will be something he remembers in his old age; even if he gets Alzheimer's and forgets his own name!"

Frank nods in agreement and squeezes his wife's hand affectionately.

All smiles, up until now, a troubled frown suddenly mars the pretty blonde's facial features.

"Harriett, what's wrong?" Mac loosens their embrace; aware of tension before she can even see her friend's face.

Harriet squints with indecision. She needs to ask a question but doesn't want to worry her friend or cause pain. "What if things don't work out? Do you guys have a backup plan?"

Mac smiles brightly, easing Harriet's worries, as Skates steps forward willingly. "Yeah, they do. I kind of volunteered; just in case. Hope you don't mind."

"Mind?" Harriet lets go of Mac and wraps Skates in an unexpected hug. "Are you kidding? I didn't want to be their only option! I think it's wonderful! Thank you!"

From her place on the floor across the hangar, Laura watches the hugs go round and wonders what's up. She looks up at Chloe and Keeter and sweetly insists, "Somebody pick me up! Aunt Mac said no more walking today, and I wanna know what's going on over there!"

Keeter retrieves the fuzzy pink tennis ball from Candy's mouth one last time and grimaces as he wipes dog drool from his hand onto the leg of his coveralls. Chloe laughs happily as much at the look on his face, as at Laura's plainly stated comment. She scoops the girl up and props her on her hip and the foursome moves to join the others as Mac steps toward the hangar doors; her happy group following close behind. Having retrieved her phone from her Jeep earlier when they brought the food in, she takes it from her hip and begins punching buttons as she walks.

"I know he's got his cell phone with him Harriet. I can send him a text message. However, it's unlikely he'll read it before he touches down. Harm's aversion to technology is softening a bit. He won't come right out and say so, but he really enjoyed having the ipad, and all the conveniences it provided, when he was over in London and Laura and I were here. He even bought two identical sets of storybooks so he could Face Time Laura a couple of times a week and read her bedtime stories. But still, when he's flying… He definitely reverts back to his anti-technology ways. It's ironic really. Navy fighter planes are just really expensive, highly armed, computers with wings as far as I can tell… Radar, black boxes, more sensors and gizmos than I can name, and everything has to work with painstaking precision or somebody dies. He'll happily climb into the cockpit of one of those things… but try getting him to read or send a text message!"

As she steps out of the hangar with friends and family close behind, she types with her thumbs. 'The tests are a go! Harriett and Bud say yes!'

She hits 'send' as Laura inquires, "Is that him?"

Mac glances up into the sky in the direction her niece is pointing. She shields her eyes against the late afternoon sunlight and smiles. "That's him! He's coming home."

Keeping their eyes on the sky, the group begins walking in the general direction of the runway in anticipation of his landing. Several seconds tick by and then Harriet gasps when the bright yellow biplane seems to hiccup and then slide into a poorly executed, yet short lived dive.

Mac giggles happily, drawing odd looks from the rest of them.

"Did…" Chloe starts slowly. "He do that on purpose?"

With absolute certainty, Mac shakes her head. "No. Not a chance!"

Chloe's gaze returns to the sky; mild concern in her eyes. "You think he's okay up there?"

Unable to keep the smile off her face, Mac nods vigorously as Keeter and Skates say in perfect harmony. "He let go of the stick… But just for a second."

Laura frowns, and demands. "Why'd he do that?"

Mac wraps her arms around both Chloe and Laura holding them tightly as she winks at Harriet. "He just got the message!"


	33. Flight of Celebration

**Chapter 32: Flight of Celebration **

**Author's Note: **Long note tonight, so bear with me. Lots of questions to answer that were posted by guests I have no other means of contacting.

Thank you all for your patience, I was hoping to get to thanksgiving in the story timeline before this coming Thursday. It's not going to happen. I wrote the Halloween scene at the gallery on Halloween night. Here it is a shade over three weeks later and the story has progressed less than 24 hours. I'm a little frustrated with my own lack of progress, but life happens. I suppose it will all get written eventually. Every time I think I'm ready to move on to a new day within the story something else pops into my head.

Annie: my best friend likes to say that I've been an advocate for the disability community since the day I was born, which was long before I made the conscious decision to be one, but this is the first time anyone's ever called me an ambassador. Thank you. That was a pleasure to read. I also love the use of your phrase 'the uninitiated' when referring to people's lack of knowledge regarding service dogs; story-wise, Keeter's to Candy. Excellent choice of words. Uninitiated explains it all.

JC: With regards to your question about Laura's mother; yes, she will turn up again at some point in the future like the bad penny she is. However, breathe easy for now. I have no intention of bringing her into this particular volume of the story, except for perhaps a passing comment here or there. I've already got far too much going on in this story. While it makes the story richer and full bodied, (For lack of a better way to describe it.) Harm, Mac, Laura, Harriett, Skates, and God knows Keeter, are more than enough to deal with without throwing Casey into the mix. But, at some point here in my little alternate universe I am going to have to deal with her. She's a loose end, and generally speaking, I don't like them.

Aside from the inconvenience of bringing her into this particular work in a major way, I don't think it's plausible to do so, given the timeline. I'm not a lawyer, and I know even less about California law than I do about Texas law, but here in Texas, aggravated assault on a police officer… Well it'll keep you locked up for a good while. So, other than generally making a nuisance of herself, Cassandra O'Hara isn't really much of a problem at this precise moment. Excluding all the damage she's already done of course. She's on the back burner for now.

At this point in the story, only Mac has temporary custody. Realistically and legally speaking, Harm has no rights to Laura at all which means if anything happens to Mac, Laura is out of luck! I'm going to have to do something about that eventually. Starting with an in-depth conversation about custody rights with some of my legally- minded pals. Here in Texas, and in Ohio as well, an incarcerated person is barred from signing any legal document. I know this because someone close to me who found herself in an unhappy marriage decided to throw in the towel when her husband went off the deep end and did something that landed him in federal prison for five years. His wife filed for divorce, but couldn't get the divorce legally until he was released because he was prohibited from signing the divorce decree while locked up. It's possible that matters concerning child custody may be viewed a little differently since I'm certain that the welfare of tiny humans and the legal paperwork that is occasionally involved are deemed more important than divorce papers. I don't know. I have to look into it. Right now, I'm a little busy researching surrogacy, but rest assured, I have every intention of seeing to it that Laura's best interests are fully met… Eventually.

I've heard it said that the trick to writing a good story is to write what you know. I have discovered, there is a lot of truth in this, which is why I think writers wind up knowing a little bit about nearly everything. Those of us who care whether or not the story sounds plausible wind up doing a lot of research about anything and everything from aardvarks to zephyrs.

Apparently, and sadly, the same rule does not seem to apply to television producers. It's all about ratings! Just today, I had a very kind reader contact me about an unintentional error made in the last chapter. It occurred because I took DPB at his word regarding Harm's flight status where F-15's are concerned. Throughout the airing of JAG, I constantly saw things that I knew wouldn't fly in real life. Turns out, there was a great deal more of that than even I knew. The amount of misinformation put out there for the purposes of getting those prime time ratings is staggering. In real life, every single person at JAG headquarters would have been drummed out of military service for the stunts they pulled.

Anyway, my point here is that I'm the kind of nitpicky person who will stop a reading a story if it's… Oh, let's call it… too far out in left field. I try very hard not to do that to my readers. (Steamboat: this is the point where you decide to contact me and remind me how unrealistic you think it is for any woman to buy a dress and matching shoes in less than 15 minutes. BIG SMILE! I stand by my word. It may be uncommon, but it is possible, even if you don't think so kind sir, so bring it on.) On the occasion that I do get something of significance wrong, and it does happen, someone is usually kind enough to let me know, and I'm usually grateful for it.

JagObsession: A few more loops and barrel rolls just for you!

* * *

Saturday, November 1, 2007

Somewhere over Magellan

1720 HRS

Before approaching the runway, Harm celebrates the good news in true flyboy fashion for the most part unaware of his audience below. Still laughing at himself, he shakes his head. Dropping the phone was one thing. Letting go of the stick because he dropped his phone… That was a fresh out of the academy mistake. He shakes it off, climbs to a new altitude, and dives again; this time on purpose. He puts Sarah through the paces, still getting reacquainted. He shouldn't have neglected her, but that's done now. He loops, climbs, dives, and rolls; and all the while images that warm him from the inside out tumble through his mind. There's his dad, keeping a watchful eye on him. There's Keeter laughing at him for making such a rookie mistake just a minute ago. Skates glances at him; her friendly eyes warm and intelligent. They all take turns in the back seat; at least in his mind anyway.

There's Chloe with her camera, capturing a new take on an old memory. Laura's sweet face with its light dusting of freckles across her nose, her inquisitive eyes, and her missing front tooth brings the pickling sensation of unshed tears to his eyes; but they are happy tears.

The kid sure knows what she wants, or doesn't want for that matter, and somehow in spite of everything she's been through, she's not afraid to say so. No, she didn't want to go home. She wanted to sit in the airplane. Well, that's done now and he'll have a new picture to set on the shelf in his office next to the one and he and his dad. She wanted to play golf. Mission accomplished. She wants grandparents… got those too. But, for Pete's sake, don't put her eggs on the same plate with any of other food. He hasn't made that mistake in awhile. What's she going to want tomorrow? Speculation really isn't necessary. He's quite certain she will let him know.

Laughing, he marvels at how little time they've really known each other. Less than three months. He remembers the moment he'd first found her, just before she toppled face down in the sand near the back porch steps. She had pushed herself up onto her knees and studied him for a moment as if deciding for herself whether or not he was a friend. It didn't take her long. In short order, she'd fisted her small hand in the fabric of his shirt front and hauled herself to her feet using his chest and shoulders to steady herself until she could manage on her own. He hadn't known it then, at the time his mind was too consumed with thoughts of repairing his damaged and neglected relationship with Mac, but when she grabbed hold of his shirt that day she'd effectively laid claim to him. He was every bit as much hers as he was, and still is, Mattie's.

He continues his aerial acrobatics and the vision of Laura's face in his mind is accompanied by the musical sound of Mattie's laughter. She's with him again, and she's happy about it. Just as Harriet said she would be. Harriett was right. He just needed to find the right place to be with her. Thank you Harriett! He has to remember to tell her that.

Suddenly he can see her too, just as he's seen her so many times before; bubbly blonde, blue eyed, sweet tempered and grumpy all at the same moment because she's swollen with child. Only this time, it's his child; his and Mac's.

They sure took their time getting here; more than 11 years. Now they are here, everything seems to be happening so quickly, almost at a breakneck speed. Why? Are they trying to make up for lost time, or now that the opportunity has arrived, are all the pieces simply falling into the places they were always meant to be? It all happened so easily; even things that usually aren't easy at all. He'd packed up his entire life and moved it halfway around the world, and it had been easy.

Okay, to be fair, he'd slept through most of that. His mother had packed up his entire life and moved it halfway around the world! That's why that part was so easy. The lady is a force of nature. He can see her in his mind's eye. Her affectionate smile, and one hand resting lightly against Frank's shoulder. It's her way of letting the tall gentle man know that she is near and will remain so. Harm never would've been cruel enough to tell her so, but just a few short years ago he wouldn't have moved into a house just 20 minutes down the road from theirs for anything. She'd have mothered him to death! Either his perception is changing, or hers is. She certainly visits more often, but she doesn't seem to hover quite as much; maybe because Mac is there. Thank God they get along. More than that, they seem to genuinely like each other. Mom hovers less, and Mac seems to be easier; less edgy.

Ahh Mac. She's not quite so argumentative these days; a bit less competitive. She smiles more often too. That's a good thing. She has such a pretty smile; his favorite smile. When they first met she told him she didn't have much to smile about. She stayed that way for a very long time, but now he can see her sitting behind her desk, the one at home tucked into a corner of their bedroom. She's idly twirling an ink pen between her fingers as she peruses some legal document. She pauses in her work and looks up at him, offering what used to be her rarely seen sweet smile. There's an unmistakable heated flash of desire in her dark eyes the instant before mirth takes over. Then she rolls her eyes and calls him squid as she reminds him what time it is. He chuckles quietly, enjoys one last barrel roll, and then eagerly gives in. She's calling him home.

* * *

Happy Thanksgiving everyone. It's 0620 0m Wednesday morning and my entire house smells like sweet potato casserole and cornbread dressing. I'm cooking for 75 this year and I've barely begun to start as of yet, so it's unlikely that I will write another chapter tonight. Depending on how things go, it may be Friday, Saturday, or possibly even Sunday before you hear from me again. On Thursday, when you gather with those who are near and dear to your heart, give thanks for each and every face at the table as well as the dog (or any other furry family member) under the table, and blessed be.


	34. To-Do List

**Chapter 33: To-Do List**

**Author's Note:** Hey Y'all! Crazy week here! How are you all getting along? I finally got the new wheelchair batteries I've been waiting on for months. Now that I can, I've got tons of errands to run! But I took a break, I missed you guys!

* * *

Saturday, November 1, 2007

1739 HRS

Careful to stand clear of his path, Mac waits for Harm to taxi passed, and then smiles at her niece. "Stay here with Chloe and your grandparents." She says, passing the girl into Chloe's waiting arms.

Laura let's go of her aunt reluctantly. "Uh, Aunt Mac, where are you going?"

Mac trots toward the slow moving aircraft waving and smiling broadly. "I'm catching a ride back to the hanger!" She calls over her shoulder as she breaks into a jog.

Keeter chuckles at the incredulous look of shock on Laura's young face as she calls out, "You be careful Aunt Mac! You're going to fall!" but before the objection is fully out of the little girl's mouth, her aunt has already pulled herself up onto the wing of the brightly painted plane and is dropping safely into the vacant seat in the cockpit.

"I hope you have a boarding pass." Harm jokes in greeting.

"What you gonna do if I don't?" She laughs. "Throw me out!" She breathes a silent thank you. Apparently, it was a good flight. He's laughing and joking.

"Meh… Probably not." The banter continues.

"Probably not? What exactly do you mean; probably not, Flyboy? "

"Want to go up?" He asks hoping to distract her.

She seriously considers this for brief moment and then shakes her head. "Next time. If you and I go back up together right now, Laura will commit mutiny when we return. And, she won't admit it, but she's tired. She's had a full day Harm. We need to take her home. Besides, I think it would be nice if you let Keeter take Sarah up I'm pretty sure both he and Skates would like a little air time. He'd said something about renting a plane. Seems like a big waste of money to me when he has a friend who could help him out.

Harm grins, feeling mildly possessive. "You expect me to let Keeter fly Sarah; alone, without me! Now I am gonna throw you out!" he teases.

Mac shakes her head and mutters under her breath. "Sibling rivalry!"

"What was that Marine? Didn't quite catch that!"

Mac chuckles. "Why is it that I can picture you two sharing a woman easier than I can picture you sharing air time in this bird?"

"Because you've got a dirty mind Jarhead… A wicked… dirty mind."

Un-offended, Mac shrugs. "Never seems to bother you after dark."

I've never said it bothers me at all; not after dark, or even in broad daylight, for that matter."

He taxis into the hangar, cuts the engine, and climbs out quickly; dropping to the ground just as the rest of their friends and family step in through the wide hangar doors. Before doing anything else, he hurries over and wraps his arms around Harriet; lifting her off the ground with an enthusiastic hug.

Caught off guard, laughter bubbles out of the blonde. She returns his hug, kisses his cheek sweetly and then swats at his shoulders. "Put me down Harm! Go hug your wife!" she orders happily.

Giggling; Laura joins in on the merriment.. "Yeah Uncle Harm!"

Harm lets go of Harriet, returning her gently to her feet, before he winks at Laura and trots back to the plane. His mouth stretches into another wide grin as he stares up at Mac standing on the wing of his airplane with her hands on her hips. She tries to glare at him playfully, but fails miserably. Her dark eyes sparkling with far too much happiness to feign any discord at all. She steps to the edge and he reaches up, moving her hands and replacing them with his own so he can guide her down easily into his waiting embrace.

He hugs her tightly for a long moment and then, mindful of their audience, and the smiles on their faces, he whispers "Come with me!" Taking her hand in his; he trots out of the hangar tugging her along behind him.

Laughing, she's not able to offer much protest. "Harm, where are you taking me?" she tries halfheartedly to halt his progress butt he doesn't stop until they are outside alone. Moving to a place left of the doors, and out of view, he backs her up against the outer wall of the hangar.

Struggling to dry up what remains of her laughter, she raises an eyebrow. "Harm, what is it? Is something wrong? I kinda thought everything was okay up…"

The rest of her thought dies on her lips when his mouth claims hers in a heated kiss. Although it takes her half a beat to understand and then another half beat to respond, she does respond to the fevered kiss; willingly and with equal adulation. She allows herself to be held captive; pulling him even closer, and he doesn't stop until he as much feels as hears a faint but undeniable murmur of pleasure escape her.

Keeping Harm close, she allows the kiss to end, but does not let him step away. She lowers her head to the curve of his neck, and breathes contentedly against his skin. "Oh hi Sailor!"

Harm tips his chin toward the sky and laughs openly as her lips nuzzle warm flesh. She leans back slightly and raises an eyebrow the instant before he replies, "This is getting to be a habit with you Mac. Why is it that every time I kiss you like that, you say hello as if my presence is suddenly a surprise?"

She giggles quietly. "Because it is Harm. For 11 years, every time you were present, I wanted you to kiss me like that. I'd pretty much decided it wasn't going to ever happen. Now that it does, it catches me by surprise. It might take me a while to get use to it."

He thinks this over for a second with exaggerated concentration before choosing to lean in again and offer her a second, equally passionate, kiss

When it's over she throws back her own head and laughs. "You're having a good day Flyboy! With warm embers between them she snuggles close and hugs him tightly." You find Mattie up there?" she whispers.

She feels him nod; his chin bobbing softly against the crown of her head. "Mattie, Dad, all of you; every single one of you,"

"That's because we're always with you. You just tune in better when you're up there Harm."

"Harriet said I just the need to find the right place. He changes the subject easily. I can't believe she agreed to get tested so quickly. I thought it would be a few weeks. Can you get her a doctor's appointment before she leaves?"

Mac shakes her head. "It usually takes at least two weeks to get an appointment. She delayed her flight for two days Harm; not two weeks. And we can't ask her to do that. She can't say yes; she won't. If she did, and she left Bud at home alone for two weeks with four kids, he'd file for divorce! She came to the opening, on her own dime. We need to let her go home, make the appointment, and we need to buy her next ticket. In fact, if this goes the way I hope it goes, we need to pay for all of her airfare."

Harm nods.

"Also, I know you wanted to take a break after finishing our bathroom, but you're going to have to get started on those extra bedrooms."

Harm chuckles, "Don't you think we should at least wait until she's pregnant before we start working on the nursery."

"Harm, I said bedrooms with an 'S'. The sooner you finish one, the sooner we can stop paying for her hotel the bill. She's going to need a place to stay when she visits. If Bud and all four kids come with her, they're going to need a hotel suite.

Harm groans mildly. "If we call the bank and set up an appointment to go and talk to somebody about a home improvement loan, I'll get started next weekend. At least for that one room; if we can space the rest out a little bit, we can handle it ourselves, but I think it would be less expensive in a long run to finish the first room sooner rather than later. Even without a baby, an extra bedroom would be nice. It's fine to have Chloe camped out on our living room sofa, but a guest bedroom would be a nicer. Everybody would have a little more privacy. Then maybe Chloe could visit more often."

Mac smiles up at him happily.

"Yeah, I thought you might like that."

"If she keeps selling her work in your mom's gallery she might be here a lot more often. That gonna be okay with you Harm?"

He squints. "Why wouldn't it be?" I like Chloe; you know that."

Mac nods. "I also know that having her around makes you miss Mattie in a way. I mean a different way than the way you miss her when Chloe isn't here."

Unable to deny it; he squeezes her affectionately and nods thoughtfully. "Can't help it. Mattie was just a year younger. Hard to look at Chloe and not think that Mattie would be off to college; preparing for life after. Hard not to imagine what she might be doing… But I won't hold that against Chloe; it's not her fault."

Mac touches his face gently. "You think they might have been friends?"

Harm raises an eyebrow and purses his lips of the same time. "I don't know about that Mac. At least not right away. Maybe eventually. Mattie did manage to run Grace Aviation for months on her own. Chloe's more of a free spirit. I'm not sure I can picture her keeping a business afloat even now. She'd get bored with it, pick up a camera, and head out for the desert, the woods, or maybe the beach. I do think they would have grown on each other though."

Mac shrugs. "I don't know Harm. I can see them butting heads, same as you, but often, the ones who clash irreparably are the ones who are alike. How often have you seen a couple of inseparable friends who are complete opposites… Who maybe took awhile to warm to one another?

He hugs her little tighter and flashes his smile; changing the subject yet again. "You think Laura's really going to be okay with everything that's about to happen? She's better, but she's still a little insecure about her place here with us. Even a couple's biological children can get a little jealous of all the attention people give to a new baby. Remember little A.J. when Jimmy first arrived?"

Mac grins. "I don't think we have to worry about jealousy yet. Right now, she still thinks it's an awesome science experiment. I don't imagine the jealousy will happen until after a baby arrives… If one does."

"One will! Trust me! Stop worrying. You know, we kind of talked around the possibility of adopting Laura at your doctor's appointment. We never got back to it."

"I wanted to give you the chance to think about it Harm. Plus, as long as we're both healthy, we have at least a little time; barring the unforeseen. Casey won't be released for at least a year, but I think the most we can expect is a year and a ½. You've already been through one difficult custody battle. My sister won't make one any easier than Tom Johnson did. She could try to make it even worse. Truth is, I don't think she really wants Laura, but she doesn't want anyone else to have her either… Especially not me. She's certainly capable of that kind of pettiness, and if she had Laura's best interests at heart… Well, we wouldn't be having this conversation. Also, if we start trying to adopt her while trying to start a surrogate pregnancy; I'm worried a judge might think the only reason we want her is because we're having difficulty having our own."

Harm shakes his head. "You worry too much. Judge Dubose placed her with us before we were even married. He knew we were her best option. I'm sure he still knows that. Take into account the improvements she's made already. Testimony from her therapist, her doctor, her friends; nobody's going to think we're being greedy or selfish Mac."

"Maybe not, but we still have to talk Casey into signing over her rights, or risk giving Laura back when she's released. Speaking of Laura, we need to take her home Harm. I know I probably sound like a broken record, but she's tired."

"You sure worry like a mom; Harriett, Mattie, Chloe, Laura… Not to mention a kid we don't even have yet!"

"I just wanna get everyone squared away."

He grins. "One step at a time Marine." He takes her by the hand again and leads her back into the hangar to find their friends waiting with curious expressions on mildly impatient faces.

"What you two doing out there?" Keeter grins slyly.

"Mind your own business!" Mac declares with the saucy smile.

Harm points at him and then tilts his head toward the plane. "Take her up. But you bring her back down without a scratch; not one! Skates, you go with him. Make sure he behaves up there!"


	35. Birthday Plans

Chapter 35: Birthday Plans

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Author's note: Thank you to all my readers who notified me about the gobbledygook presented with the last chapter. It has been fixed. It happens far more often than you know. I don't know precisely what causes it, but I'm fairly certain that it has something to do with the coding that allows us to post to this site. It happens almost every chapter. I just usually catch it, and fix it, before y'all ever know about it.

The first time I cut and paste any new chapter into the document manager it looks fine. Then I save it, and suddenly the coding nonsense appears. For reasons that surpass my understanding, a second run at cut and paste clears up the problem. Last time I just forgot to 'select all' before I cut and pasted the second time so, you got both the clear version of the chapter plus all the nonsense. Sorry about that

Steamboat; Yes, power wheelchairs require two 12 volt batteries to run. For the average user of what is often referred to as a rehab chair (a chair custom built to fit the needs of a specific person with a developmental disability) a set of batteries might last three or four years. For someone like me, who has literally been known to drive the wheels off of these babies, batteries are usually only good for about a year and ½. The set I just recently replaced was two years old. I started trying to replace them eight months ago; nearly nine, and for a lot of boring reasons you don't want to hear anything about, it has taken way too long to get new ones. Because of the unusual lengthy delay, I've nearly been housebound for the last month; trying to conserve what little battery life I had left for the necessities. I still don't have the other things I ordered for the chair; just the batteries. Still waiting for the rest, but at least now I'm playing catch up; out and about doing all of things I haven't been able to do for the last month or so. Hence, the delay in writing. However, I'm almost done playing catch up now. I should be getting back to a more regular schedule very soon.

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Sunday, November 2, 2007

Rabb residence

0247 hours

Harm teeters on the brink of sleep as memories of their most recent bout of lovemaking mingle pleasantly with the scent of the sleeping women in his arms. Few days in life are as good as today was and he lets his thoughts wander wherever they will without any attempt to structure them.

In spite of the fact that it feels like one, it isn't his birthday or any holiday that he knows of. It isn't even Mac's birthday. Hers long ago became far more meaningful to him than his own anyway.

He clearly recalls realizing very early in their relationship that she didn't seem to care for celebrating birthdays; at least not her own. She gets excited, and makes a fuss over other people's birthdays; especially the children they know. Usually frugal in her spending, except where shoes were concerned, she buys generous, and occasionally even lavish, gifts for those she cares about. Often months ahead of time, and her anticipation over the simple act of giving the gift is always contagious. More than that, it is infectious. However, she simply couldn't seem to care less about her own birthday. She won't even admit to having one unless pressed diligently, and it had taken him time to begin to understand why. Even when she was still in her late twenties she hadn't cared for celebrating her own birthday.

The first year they knew each other he foolishly assumed that the annual reminder that she was aging made her uncomfortable. Some people do have trouble with that. However, with her, that wasn't the problem. He hadn't known what the problem was until the first time he'd given her a birthday gift. No, she's content with getting older. The further away she gets from the frightened, angry, powerless kid she used to be, the happier she seems to be. So, another year slipping by doesn't bother her the way it does some women he's known.

That first year, he hadn't even known it was her birthday until Harriett whispered that particular bit of Intel in his ear in the bullpen at HQ. He recalls his mild annoyance. Why hadn't she said anything? He can also recall mild panic. He's fairly certain that his digestive tract stopped working in that moment; came to a grinding halt. The lunch he'd just eaten moments before his blonde friend decided to share her knowledge regarding the significance of the date, sat heavy as a brick in the pit of his stomach until just before dinner time when he'd fumbled through the giving of the gift he bought for her at the last possible moment.

Reflexively, he squeezes the sleeping Marine's shoulder lightly as he recalls the events of that day.

She'd been a bad mood all day. Some case she was working on wasn't going well. Her opposing counsel was giving her a run for her money. Harm can't recall the details of the case. Only that, for once, he wasn't the opposing counsel. Her less than glorious mood wasn't his fault… at least, not that time. Then, Harriet had whispered in his ear and he felt like a world class heel. He can't recall anyone wishing her a happy birthday that day at the office. He'd made up his mind to do just that - to fix things- and he crossed the bullpen with purpose in his stride, but when he knocked lightly on the frame of her open office door she'd glanced up at him and the withering look she shot him made him want to retreat to the safety of his childhood bedroom with his mother nearby; only a shout away. Somehow, in that moment, even a discreet 'Happy birthday' seemed wrong. What to do?

'Easy Squid', he'd told himself; already accustomed to the less than favorable nickname she'd given him. 'Make no sudden or unexpected moves. Don't piss her off!' Again, what to do? 'Offer to feed her.' His conscience echoed loudly as if he were a complete moron. He was already use to that too. 'She likes to be fed… can't go wrong with food.'

He tried his smile, and the scowl on her face deepened. Ignoring it, he pressed on. "Feel like sharing a pizza for dinner?"

The flint in her eyes softened just a bit as she toyed with her ink pen and glanced at her calendar. "We have trial prep I forgot about?"

"No, just feel like ordering pizza tonight." He'd lied; ignoring the lump of undigested food in his gut. "I won't eat the whole thing by myself. I don't like leftover pizza, and I hate throwing food away." It was impossible for him to miss the indecision in her dark eyes. "Unless you have other plans…"

The heavy sigh she'd given him still reverberates in his mind. "No other plans. Pizza's okay. 1900?"

"Let's make it 1930. I've got an errand to run first."

"K. I'll be there." Assuming the conversation was over, she'd returned her attention to the work on her desk and he had quickly retreated into his own office; feeling mildly frantic.

He had no idea what sort of gift to buy for her. He couldn't recall her ever once saying the words, 'I want…' Or 'I'd really like to have…' He'd frowned as he settled into his chair. He must not have been listening. Surely she must have. Girls didn't seem to have a problem telling him what they wanted. He'd searched his memory carefully. No, at that early point in their relationship, he couldn't recall her ever saying those words; he was certain of it. He'd mulled it over, lost too deeply in thought to realize that someone was knocking; taping lightly against his door frame, until Harriet cleared her throat noisily.

"Earth to Commander Rabb." She teased lightly; setting files on the edge of his desk when he'd waved her in with a sheepish grin.

"Close the hatch a minute; will you Harriett?"

Mildly surprised by the hushed request, his bubbly friend had complied with wide happy eyes and an eager smile that was slightly uncertain of whatever was to follow.

"Thanks for the heads up… about our birthday girl. Why is it you know, and no one else seems to?"

"Personnel files. I make it a point to pay attention to that kind of thing… I write everybody's down on my personal calendar. I haven't told anyone else here. She hasn't mentioned it, and you know how tight-lipped she can be. I think if we made a fuss, it would probably make her uncomfortable but still… It's her birthday... Somebody should acknowledge it, and I think it would mean the most coming from you sir."

He'd nodded. "Thanks again Harriet, I don't want to seem ungrateful, but couldn't you have told me yesterday? I have no idea what to get for her, and precious little time to make a decision.

Harriet had shrugged, as if it should be the easiest thing in the world to know what gift to buy for a frequently taciturn Marine. "The bakery a couple of blocks from your loft has devil's food cupcakes with camouflage frosting. Make her a lasagna for supper. I don't know your recipe, but I do know you made it for her once and she raved about it for a week afterwards..."

"Really?" Harm had squinted at her in disbelief. "She told me she liked it but…"

Harriett had nodded her understanding. "She downplayed it. That's just her way. Trust me, she loved it. She got a big kick out of the fact that you made half of it with meat; just for her. I don't think she's used to that sort of thing… People doing things for no other reason than just to make her happy. She could also use new tools for those ichnite things she likes. I don't know anything about them… Except that she likes them. I was over at her place not too long ago. She had a work table set out, and her tools look a little worse for wear. Don't know a thing about them, how much they cost, or even where to find them; but I'll find out, if you're interested… "

Harm still remembers flashing his grin; ear to ear. "Harriett, you're a lifesaver! And yes please! Find out where I can get some in a hurry… When you have time, of course!"

The rest of his day had been a blur of activity. Harriet located and purchased the gift. All he had to do was reimburse her, and pick it up on his way to the grocery store for the ingredients to make lasagna. Mac had been surprised, but not disappointed, when they didn't order pizza. While they waited for the dish to finish baking, he'd settled the gift on the bar in front of her.

"Happy birthday Jarhead!" he told her quietly.

First, she stared at the gift wrapped box as if it were a completely foreign object; almost as if it were other-worldly. Then, her chin had snapped up; her eyes sharp with a mixture of disbelief and doubt.

"Harm how did you…"

"Does it really matter how?"

She'd shaken her head adamantly; it was a gesture that couldn't yet, but one day would, remind him of their niece. She had continued to stare at the gift with uncertainty for several long minutes more before she finally breathed quietly, "Can I open it?"

"Of course not!" he had teased her. "You have to put it away and wait until next year."

The memory of the shocked, irritated, scowl on her face still makes Harm chuckle quietly despite all the time that has passed. She stirs in his arms, murmuring something unintelligible, but does not wake.

"Of course you can open it! That's what you're supposed to do with birthday presents!"

She did open the gift, but not before she'd picked it up, given it a gentle shake, and turned it over in her hands multiple times inspecting the package curiously; almost suspiciously.

"Harm you didn't have to."

"I know that. I wanted to."

"Oh… Okay." She said softly, uneasily; but even now he remembers the faintest trace of a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "What is it?"

Before turning to get plates out of a kitchen cabinet, he had laughed at her. "Open it and find out. It's not booby trapped; I promise."

He had watched her remove the gift wrap with painstaking care; as if the paper alone was some kind of precious token and he couldn't help but wonder how long it had been since anyone had given her a gift of any kind. He had watched her open the box and stare at its contents in wonder for a quiet moment. He had watched her gently caress the tools inside. He remembers seeing faint traces of blush rise in her cheeks. Her words tender and her head bowed slightly; with her eyes hidden from view, she said a heartfelt, and all but inaudible, 'thank you' that for some reason; very nearly brought tears to his eyes. She didn't set the box aside until there was food on plate in front of her, and later when he stuck a single yellow candle in the top of a chocolate cupcake and lit it for her; he was stunned motionless but the single tear that slipped from her eyelashes and slid down her face.

It took several seconds for him to find his voice, but when he did, he stammered. "What's wrong? Mac? What did I do wrong?"

Silently, yet adamantly, she shook her head. "Dinner would have been enough all by itself Harm. The gift was more than enough." She holds up the cupcake with its lit candle. "This is too much."

He had squinted, unable to understand. "Mac, it's just a cupcake."

She shook her head again and stared down at the birthday treat; unable to make eye contact as she whispered, "No one's given me cake on my birthday since I was 15. I only had one piece of it; just a couple of bites. Joe threw the whole thing against the wall when I started crying because Mom was gone. Then he hugged me. It was weird. He was pissed off and sorry all at the same time, but I didn't care too much how he felt that day. I'm the one that got stuck cleaning birthday cake off the wall not to mention the floor. A year later, I don't even think he remembered. My 16th was on a Saturday, but he disappeared the night before and didn't come home until the wee hours of Monday morning. Since then; my birthday's suck. So, I try not to think about them."

"And that's why you always remember everyone else's."

She had nodded as he rounded the bar and wrapped his arms around her. "

She didn't want elaborate parties, but from then on he made sure she had cake. It took a few years, but eventually she stopped looking at gift wrapped packages as if they might be rigged to explode, and he enjoyed her birthdays infinitely more than his own, no matter what gifts she gave him. Today was good; like both their birthdays and Christmas all rolled into one. He literally shudders when he thinks about the fact that he missed two of her birthdays while he was busy not flying.

In the darkness of their bedroom, her sleepy voice as a soft surprise. "What's wrong?" She murmurs. "You cold?"

"Hmm uh." He mutters thickly; barely awake. "Missed two birthdays. I'm sorry."

He feels her shift slightly beside him as it takes a moment for what he said to fall into place in her mind. "Doesn't matter Harm. No fun without you anyway. You were here today. Makes up for it. You're going to be okay now. Birthdays fun again."

"When's Laura's?"

"November 28. Falls on Thanksgiving every four years." He hears her sleepy smile.

"Gonna throw some outrageous party?"

"Not outrageous. Do something fun though. Whatever she wants."

"Ask her tomorrow?

"Uh huh,"'

"Always invite Bud and Harriett over for a cake."

Mac inhales deeply; waking up just a little bit. "To Laura's party?"

"Ok, that too. I meant baby's thought."

Mac giggles in the darkness. "Crazy Flyboy! Be rude of us not to. But, gotta have baby before birthday cake."

He pats her shoulder. "Can still make plans. Go to sleep.

"Was asleep. Woke me up Squid. Why…thinking about birthdays?"

"Didn't start that way. Just got that way. Was a good day, today. I guess I started thinking about others."

Mac snuggles a little closer. Just before sleep claims them both; she murmurs something about lasagna, dinosaur tracks, and birthday candles


	36. We're Idiots

Chapter 36: We're Idiots!

**Author's note:** Well it made me smile! I hope you like it too!

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Sunday, November 2, 2007

Rabb residence

0823 hours

Putting plates on the table, Mac pauses to look around. "Where's Laura?"

"Still in bed." Chloe offers her a steaming cup of coffee. "She got up a couple hours ago, went to the bathroom, and then crawled back into bed. I expected her to come into the living room and turn on Sunday morning cartoons. "

Mac shrugs. "She's tired. She wore herself out yesterday. No, you drink it. I've had my cup this morning."

Chloe squints at her, and then shoots Harm a mildly troubled look when he glances over his shoulder from his place in front of the stove.

Mac grins as she settles into a chair and unfolds the morning paper. With her back to them, she comments drolly. "Will you two stop passing each other looks? I'm fine, and so is Laura. Yesterday was a big day for her. I'm just happy she didn't wake up at 0300 crying with a relentless leg cramp. I thought for sure she overdid it yesterday. Either she's getting stronger, or I'm getting the hang of this… Finally, don't worry; she'll be here as soon as her nose catches the scent of breakfast."

Harm moves a platter of bacon, sausage, and eggs to the center of the table. "Maybe it's a little of both…" He leans over her shoulder; pausing to kiss her lightly on the mouth. "And we're passing each other looks because... well, since when do you only have one cup of coffee?"

She smiles at him. "Since yesterday. That's when. In a couple of weeks, we'll get Harriet tested, and Skates too. No matter which one of them helps, Dr. Thayer's going to put me on medication, hormones, before she harvests any eggs. When she does that, she's going to insist I lay off the caffeine. A cranky Marine, hopped up on hormones, with no caffeine – this house is going to be an interesting place. Maybe if I start trying to wean myself off now, slowly, maybe, just maybe, this place won't turn into a free fire zone."

Chloe groans comically as she sips from the wide mouthed rim of the cup she previously offered Mac and teases, "Suddenly, I'm thinking that maybe being back in Vermont doesn't sound like a bad idea!"

"Were you thinking of staying longer?"

"Don't know. Well, I was thinking about it." Folding one leg beneath her, Chloe settles into the chair nearest Mac. "I was sort of wondering how you guys would feel about adding my name to the list of candidates… I know I'd sort of be … The dark horse, but what the hack. Can't hurt to offer."

Slicing fruit at the kitchen counter, Harm turns and gives Mac a puzzled look the instant before she catches on herself and stammers in shock. "Chloe! We can't ask you to do that!"

The girl smiles. "You aren't asking; I'm offering. Besides, it's just a test. What can that hurt?"

Thinking that surely he must be misunderstanding; Harm sets down paring knife he's working with and returns to the table; shaking his head. "You're in college. We're not going to get in the way of that."

"Not a valid argument counselor." She challenges with a smile. "First, it's just a test. Schedule it on the right day and I don't even have to miss class. Even if I do miss, one class won't be fatal to me… Or my GPA."

Mac watches him shake his head again and realizes that he's digging his heels in. She holds up a hand, gently waving him off, before he becomes obstinate. She doesn't want him to offend, or unintentionally hurt, the sensitive young woman. Taking over; she quickly decides to play devil's advocate. "You think this all the way through? I mean, all the way through? Let's just say, for the sake of argument, that you are a good match. Then, how are you going to feel?"

"Obligated." Chloe answers with passionate honesty. Ben Franklin said, 'Those who have the ability to right a wrong have the responsibility to do the same. It's not right; you guys not being able to have a baby. If I can make it right; then I want to."

Mac smiles patiently. She can feel Harm's discomfort mounting without even glancing at him. "That's great Chloe. That really is. Thank you!" She pauses to hug that girl tightly. "But we don't want you to feel obligated. And we aren't talking about the birth of a nation. We're talking about the birth of a baby. That requires a kind of personal sacrifice I'm quite certain Benjamin Franklin never once thought about making."

Chloe can't help but giggle. "He was thought to have been one of the great minds of his time. Bet this conversation would have blown him away!"

"I'm sure. He would've swallowed his wooden teeth… But seriously, I know girls younger do it every day Chloe, but do you know that most obstetricians will generally recommend a girl not having babies before the age of 25. The average female isn't completely mature physically until about then and it's hard on her body. So, I'm sure your age will be a factor, besides they don't call it a labor and delivery for nothing kid. You really want to risk going through that; especially when it's not even your baby?"

"Bodies heal. And the thought of labor doesn't scare me too badly… I mean, it does, but like you said… People do it every day… and they survive."

"Not all of them do Chloe."

'Yeah okay, but that's rare today it's also something that's largely beyond my control."

"Okay, let's talk about something that is within your control. Say you do this for us - you actually carry a child for us. Have you given any thought to what that's going to do to your lifestyle? For the most part, you're a carefree college student; minus working to pay for school. Do this, and things will change drastically. You're going to be tired, you'll likely be sick, and you're going to gain weight; just to start with."

Chloe shrugs. "Pregnant women are tired and fat every day Mac. Eventually, they get over it, or learn to live with it. Pregnancy does end, and there are plenty of bathrooms on campus. I can hurl in any one of them."

"Okay, I can picture you being a trooper about it; learning to cope. How about a big one; what's being pregnant going to do to your love life? I bet there are 35 year old men out there who would feel a bit territorial about their girlfriends being pregnant with someone else's child; even under these circumstances. How is an 18 year old going to handle it? Specifically, how is Jason going to handle it? Don't you think he might be a bit uncomfortable with it? Is he going to be a trooper about it? Is he a mature enough; and does he care enough about you to hang in there?"

Chloe's eyes go wide for a moment. "I hadn't thought about that." She shrugs "But it doesn't matter. I think you've got the wrong idea about me and Jason."

Mac raises an eyebrow. "You two aren't dating anymore?"

"We still date. We just aren't…" Chloe pauses to shoot Harm a look that is equal parts mirth and discomfort." …dating."

Harm groans quietly when Mac supplies the translation. "You two aren't sleeping together?"

Chloe shakes her head. "Don't think we're going to either. Not that we haven't tried. It just never works out. We're uh … awkward together… and not just because we're both relatively new to it. The chemistry is just… off. I don't know. Feels weird."

Harm opens his mouth to say something and Mac waves him off again. "Okay, let's pause the conversation on surrogacy for just a moment. Back the train up. Feels weird how? Weird like, a little bit scary, a little bit thrilling; or weird like, this is just wrong, maybe even creepy?"

"It's not exactly creepy. He's a nice guy. He's not a serial killer, a pervert, or a rapist Mac. But, it's not exactly right either. It's just… Off. I can't explain it. It's nothing I can put my finger on. It's just…"

Mac nods. "Be smarter than me when I was your age… Be smarter than I was three years ago. Do yourself a favor and walk away. If your conscience is telling you it's not right Chloe; for any reason - even one you can't quite identify - then, it's not right."

Chloe nods. "I like having him around but he'll bail if I do this, if he's even still around by the time we get to that point, and that's really okay. I won't miss him that much."

"Okay, who would you miss? Who matters that much?"

Mac smiles when the girl's eyes begin to sparkle. "Henry… But he won't bail. He might think it's weird. It might even make him uncomfortable, but he won't disappear on me. If I decide to do it… Well, he'll back my play no matter how weird he thinks it is."

"I thought Henry was just a friend?"

Chloe nods and rolls her eyes. "Because that's the way he wants it." She shrugs. "He's scared of me or something… But he loves me anyway." She adds with certainty.

Mac chuckles and raises an eyebrow. "He tell you that?"

"Not in so many words. He kind of dances around it, but I got the message. Whatever… I can wait him out. I'm only 19. I've got time."

"Chloe, the last thing I want to do is encourage you to rush into something. Yes, please do take your time, but you don't have as much time as you think you do. You'll blink and 20 years will be gone. Henry might be gone with them, and as far as his being scared of you goes, he might be a little less scared of you if you stop spending time with boys you won't miss that much."

Chloe frowns thoughtfully. "It can't be that easy."

"I didn't say it would be easy; but you're close right?" Mac waits for her to nod emphatically before asking. "Does Henry know you won't miss Jason all that much when he's gone?"

Chloe squints as she thinks about it. "Probably, I tell him pretty much everything."

Mac nods. "And he also knows you keep Jason around anyway?"

Nodding; Chloe sips coffee and shrugs.

Mac puts an arm around the girl and says conspiratorially, "Maybe he's not afraid of you. Maybe he's afraid of turning into the guy you won't miss; the guy you just keep around."

"Mac, that's crazy! Henry… I think he's…"

Mac's dark eyes sparkle as she holds a finger to her own lips. "Shh… Don't tell me. Tell him!"

Chloe laughs wryly. "You make it sound so easy. Look how long it took you two." She gestures between Harm and Mac.

That's because we're idiots! We talked around it for more than nine years. Then, we spent two years apart. Stop talking around it. Tell him… Loudly, if you have to, but say it, and go from there. If he cares as much as you think he does; he's not going anywhere. If he doesn't…better to know it now…And as for getting tested to be a surrogate, I won't say no, but I want you to seriously think about all the things I mentioned. I could tell you to go home and discuss it with your grandmother and your dad, and you should do that. Give them both the chance to weigh in. It's a huge decision to make. However, you're more likely to listen if you discuss it with the person whose opinion matters to you most of all. So talk to Henry about it. Listen to whatever questions he asks, and really think about the answers. I'll set up the appointment and we'll just see how it goes."

Nodding happily; Chloe snags a piece of bacon from the platter in the middle of the table. "I'm going to go wake Laura up before the food gets cold." She trots from the room; leaving the two of them staring after her in astonishment."

Harm waits until she is through Laura's bedroom door with it closed securely behind her before he adamantly shakes his head. "No!" He hisses. "Mac, we can't let her do that. It's not fair! She's just a kid!"

Smiling, Mac gets up and walks around the table and folds her arms around him. "I know. Don't worry, I agree completely. She's too young. If we have to, we'll tell her that, but I'd like to avoid it if possible. She means well Harm. She loves us. If we out right refuse the offer; we'll hurt her. I'm almost positive that the doctor will tell her she's not a suitable candidate for surrogacy. More than 80% of the women who do volunteer for surrogacy have had children of their own. They have at least some understanding of what they're getting into. 'No' will be easier to hear coming from the doctor than from us. If by some chance the doctor doesn't say no, I'll make her read 'What to Expect When You're Expecting' cover to cover. If the text doesn't scare the hell out of her, the pictures will. If that doesn't work, we will tell her 'no' but I'd rather she come to it on her own as possible."

Harm acquiesces but he's not particularly happy about it. "You sure you want her seeking advice about pregnancy from an 18 year old frat boy?"

Mac hugs him a little tighter. "Henry's not 18. Jason is. Henry's also not a frat boy. He's 22 and this year's senior editor for the college newspaper. I've met him. He's young, but he's got a head on his shoulders and he knows how to use it. He's also madly in love with Chloe." Mac whispers before dropping a warm kiss on the pulse point in Harmis neck. "I've never met Jason. I'll worry about him if he doesn't disappear from her life over the next few weeks. Sounds like he's on his way out."

Harm sighs heavily. "Okay… Wait… He's 22! She's only 19!"

Mac giggles and rolls her eyes. "It's gonna be okay… Dad!"


	37. Day One

**Chapter 37: Day One**

**Author's note**: Merry Christmas y'all.

* * *

November 16, 2007

Rabb residence

0902 hours

"Grandma's here!" Laura sings out happily, unwittingly guaranteeing that she is heard by all in the house as well as the woman standing outside on the front porch. The little girl gets ready to hop down from her perch on a kitchen bar stool as Chloe trots quickly through the cozy living room on her way to the front door.

"Uh uh Missy! You stay right there. Finish your breakfast." Chloe smiles brightly as she turns the knob and finds a familiar face examining the new door knocker installed since last she was here.

Trish greets her with enthusiasm after she pauses momentarily in the doorway, reaching out to gently finger the new wood carving in artistic appreciation. The Naval and Marine Corps officer's insignia, are beautifully carved in dual representation; one on either side of the heavy knocker with Mackenzie–Rabb discreetly carved beneath in a fine, yet masculine, script.

"Well, that's just gorgeous; isn't it? Welcome back darling! When did you arrive?"

"Shortly after midnight. It's been a crazy two weeks at school but I'm off for Thanksgiving break and planning to make most of it!"

Slipping passed her into the tiny foyer,Trish chuckles merrily. "Your idea of making the most of a break from classes is to start your Thanksgiving holiday off with a doctor's appointment?"

Chloe laughs as she helps the older woman out of her light-weight jacket. "Well no, not exactly. But; it's for a good cause."

"Well now, I can't argue with that."

"You want a quick cup of coffee? We've got time. No one's quite ready to leave just yet."

"Alright." Trish smiles; easily persuaded.

"Sit!" Chloe hangs the jacket on the wall mounted coat rack and then pats the bar stool next to Laura's on her way into the kitchen. She chuckles softly when the girl's dog complies with the single word command that wasn't intended for her.

On her way to the offered seat, she is greeted by Laura's bright smile while the girl shakes her head and informs her furry friend, "Chloe wasn't talking to you, silly girl." Trish settles in and embraces the small girl in greeting as Chloe sets a fresh cup of dark roast on the bar in front of her.

The young photographer is easily able to anticipate Trish's next comment when she catches herself and pauses halfway through the words, "Will there be... anything else?' Sorry, it's habit." She laughs. "I know, I sound like a waitress. Gotta pay for school somehow, but it's getting to the point that I probably mutter those five words in my sleep. On the plus side, you keep selling my photos, and I might be able to quit the diner before too much longer."

"I've already told you darling, your work sells itself. All I provide is the wall space." Trish sips the steaming, robust brew with care. "Oh good, it's not marine-grade but Harm didn't make it either."

Chloe laughs, "I told him he wasn't allowed to make it; not while I'm here. He doesn't know what good coffee is!" she declares as Mac enters the kitchen from the master bedroom with her head tipped slightly to one side so she can fasten an earring into place.

The Marine smiles at the newest arrival and then calls over her shoulder; "Harm, 14 minutes to go, or you're going to be late picking up Harriet… and your mom's here."

Both women listen for, and accept Harm's muffled response even though his exact words are not entirely discernible.

To Chloe Mac says, "Pour him a cup – milk and two generous teaspoons of sugar - but put it in his travel mug. He'll have to drink it on the go. He just got out of the shower." She holds up a finger silently asking for another moment and back traces her steps. She returns seconds later with a pair of heels in her hand and drops them lightly to the floor; using a foot to arrange them so that she can step into them.

As she does this Trish asks, "Where did you get the new door knocker? It's magnificent, and a custom design like that must have cost you a pretty penny."

Mac shakes her head. "Didn't cost us a thing… unless you count the vows. It was a wedding present from Uncle Matt. I sent him a collection of wedding pictures. The knocker arrived last week along with a note telling me that if I had written more than two days before the wedding, it wouldn't have been a late wedding gift."

"I do hope he wasn't truly disappointed."

"Not at all! It wasn't a genuine complaint; just some good-natured ribbing. He likes Harm. I've known that since the moment he asked 'Sarah, where did you find this man!' eleven years ago. If he didn't he would have waited until he and I were alone and then he'd have told me to put Harm back under whichever rock I found him beneath."

As Trish chuckles, Mac turns her attention to her niece" Laura, have you fed Candy yet?"

The girl nods with enthusiasm as she spears a ¼ of a sausage patty with her fork, chomps on it, and then washes it down with a sip of milk. "We got up late. She was hungry. She brought her empty food bowl to my room and dropped it on my face while I was still asleep."

Trish glances at the Labrador on the floor as Laura's feet. "She'll bring you her empty bowl?"

Biting into a slice of cantaloupe, Laura nods. "And drop it on your face! We didn't teach her to do that either. She figured that out to all by herself. I think she borrows Aunt Mac's clock! She knows when it's time to eat!"

Shaking her head for Laura's benefit, Mac explains, "She's on a feeding schedule, and she's used to it. If she gets hungry because we're late serving a meal, she will bring her bowl to whoever's available. It's her way of saying, 'Hey, what gives? Feed me!' It's usually Laura's responsibility, and Candy knows that too. Because food reinforces her training, it's a rule that 99% of her food come directly from Laura. On the rare occasion that they're separated - usually when Laura and Liam are off on an outing with Liam's mother that may not be particularly dog friendly - Candy stays here with me. For example, they can't take Candy along when they go fishing in the Harrell's boat; they'd catch nothing but a wet dog. I'm always up early, so she's never dropped an empty food bowl on my face while I slept but, on the infrequent occasion that I feed her, I have stepped out of the shower to find her looking at me expectantly with the rim of her bowl clenched in her teeth."

Trish chuckles quietly over the rim of her coffee cup before taking another sip. "You're lucky she doesn't invite herself in."

Laura shakes her head. "Candy hates the shower. She hates rain too."

Trish eyes the dog curiously.

"I asked the dog trainer about it." Mac supplies. "This dog loves a standing body of water. It doesn't matter if it's in a pond, a puddle, a swimming pool, a bathtub, or even a large bucket. However, she doesn't like falling water. According to the dog trainer, because a dog's hearing is more acute than a human's hearing, many of them don't like the sound of falling water. Even something as gentle as a shower can disorient them; interfere with their ability to interpret what else they hear, as well as how far away or how near the sound is. So, she's never invited herself into the shower with me but one day last year I was enjoying a late night bath, and I was also very nearly asleep. I left the door ajar thinking I would hear Laura if she called out for me, but it didn't work out that way. When Laura began having a nightmare, her distress upset Candy badly enough that she came to get me at a run… and jumped right in. She was already airborne before I knew what was happening. So, there was no time to call her off. Fortunately, because she was worried about Laura, she got out of the tub almost as quickly as she got in it. Ever had an 80 pound dog take a running leap and land on your chest? It's not pleasant! She nearly drowned me!" One second I was dozing lazily in the tub. The next there was water up my nose and I was sputtering, coughing, and trying desperately to get her off of me."

"Oh dear! I think I'd make a point of being certain the door was firmly latched after that; maybe even locked, I have seen her open doors. If she'll come get you, then there's no need to leave the door open. I've never heard her bark, but I've heard you say she will if Laura's in need."

Mac nods. "Ordinarily, she doesn't make a sound unless you count the sound of her toenails clicking against the hardwood as she walks but, when she decides to, she's got quite the bark. She does it so infrequently that when she does, if she does it more than once, she raises an alarm. I've had neighbors come running simply because they heard this dog bark. Those that know her, know that when she does, something is wrong. The 82 year old great grandfather who lives next door is tall and frail. He probably doesn't weigh 20 pounds more than I do. God forbid there was an intruder in the house; they could snap him like a twig. He's smart enough to know that too, but he's heard Candy bark twice in the last year and a ½ and both times he was here as quickly as could be. The rest of the time, he's unobtrusive; keeps to himself, but he'll come check on us if she barks."

Laura nods. "Mr. Whittenhour. He's funny. He calls me Butter Bean." She smiles. "Aunt Mac says he looks like a newspaperman."

"A newspaperman?"

Mac nods. "He's always well dressed. He's clothes are always pressed; even when he tends to his plants. He almost always wears, a tie, and suspenders, and wire rim glasses that he fidgets with when he's uncomfortable or bored. He gets his hair cut every two weeks, and I swear I can picture him with a fedora pushed back on his brow, typing - hunt and peck style - on some antiquated Smith Corona with a cigar stuck in the corner of his mouth. Given half a chance, Laura will try to talk both his ears off. He never complains; just smiles and nods. Every time he sees her, he'll ask, "Wha'cha know that's worth knowing Butter Bean? She never misses the opportunity to impart some knowledge."

Laura shrugs and grins happily. "That's 'cause he's nice to me. He never tells me I talk too much, or that I should be quiet. He answers my questions too. Sometimes he says 'You better ask your aunt about that one, but he never says go away. If I ask Mom too many questions, she says, 'Go clean your room." 'Specially if she doesn't know the answer. I hate that! Why can't she just say I don't know? Mr. Whittenhour does. Actually he says, 'Well now, I don't rightly know about that.' Laura imitates the octogenarian; pausing to run her fingers through her hair as she's seen him do many times before. "I like that much better than 'Go clean your room!"

Trish tries to hide her smile behind her coffee cup, and Mac bites her lip to keep from grinning ear to ear as she moves Laura's empty plate from the kitchen bar to the sink and rinses it. Over her shoulder she asks, "Are you sure that's not just because you don't like cleaning your room?"

Laura shakes her head emphatically. "Na uh! I didn't even have to do it. She never checked. Not like you do Aunt Mac. She doesn't care if my room's clean. The rest of the house isn't. She only says that when she wants me to go away and leave her alone." Laura slowly and carefully slides off her bar stool; telling Trish, "I'll be back in a minute." She reaches for her dog's collar; getting a firm hold she says, "Come on Candy. Gotta go brush."

Trish watches the girl cross the kitchen and enter the master bedroom as Mac calls out, "Make sure you knock before you go into the bathroom please. "

"Okay." Laura replies merrily.

"Doesn't she have her own bathroom now?"

Chloe giggles curiously, and Mac nods her understanding of the reason for the question as she answers. "Yes, she does, but her toothbrush stays in our bathroom. She gets some sort of peculiar thrill out of standing at the sink beside Harm while he shaves. I don't understand it - I mean yeah, I know why I like it, but she's seven in two weeks. The reasons why I like it haven't even begun to enter her mind yet. Except for the fact that he's had to start getting partially dressed before he shaves, Harm doesn't seem to mind. In fact, I think he enjoys it. She'll walk in there and gently nudge him out of the way. Well, sometimes it's a nudge, other times it's more like a playful shove. She has to have a step stool. She's tall enough to reach the water faucet without it if she stands on tiptoe but that throws her off balance. She forces him to share the sink and the mirror. She invades his privacy, brushes her teeth; he shaves, and for some reason, it makes them both happy."

Chloe inquires. "Oh come on Mac! Didn't you ever stand in the bathroom doorway and watch your dad shave when you were a kid?" Trish nods in agreement. "I did!" it was fascinating."

Mac shakes her head adamantly; feeling mildly outnumbered. "God no! He was hung over most mornings. And he was mean as a rattlesnake with a bad case of heartburn even when he wasn't hung over. If I could help it, I didn't come out of my room until I heard his truck crank."

Trish reaches across the bar and pats her daughter-in-law's hand affectionately. "Well, that sort of thing entertains a child Laura's age if they aren't afraid of the man who's doing it."

"I'll have to take your word for it." The Marine pauses and it takes her a moment, but at length they watch a smile find its way to her lips. "She's not afraid of Harm." Mac breathes; talking more to herself than to them.

"Definitely not!" Trish declares as laughter bubbles out of Chloe.

Afraid of… more like in complete control of! I watched her the last time I was here. Marched right in there. Told him to scoot over. Didn't ask… Told… But she did do it with an adorable smile on her face, moved her step stool into place. Poor kid; even on her step stool her head barely comes to his chest. She climbed up there, grinned at him, and then deliberately elbowed him. Apparently, it wasn't the first time they've done this. He's used to it. I know he is because he didn't even nick himself. He just elbowed her back and went on with his shaving as if it was commonplace.

"Mac shrugs. "She's right. That's exactly how it happens Trish. But don't lament over her height too much Chloe. She's gotten ½ inch taller in the last two months."

Trish nods in agreement. "Next time she comes in here, really look at her Chloe. Right now, she's still tiny but her legs are disproportionately long for her body. As she ages, they'll get longer. Eventually her torso will stretch. Her grandmother, and her aunt; they're both taller than most women. And if I remember correctly, Mac you told me that your sister is also quite tall?"

"Yes, she's taller than Mom, maybe even a ¼ inch taller than me. Laura's not going to be the exception. Her therapist commented on the disproportionate length of her legs when he measured her a few months ago for that new brace. After he sent the order in, I got a call from Freedom Orthotics when they were putting the thing together. They couldn't reach him one afternoon, so they tried me. They wanted to make sure the lengths listed hip to knee, and knee to ankle weren't an error. Charlie says that her growth has just been stunted by too much frozen pizza and chocolate milk - her mother's idea of a regular meal, as opposed to an occasional treat – but Harm does 90% of the cooking here. He feeds us well. " Mac chuckles conspiratorially. "Of course, when she finally does grow into those long legs of hers, when she stops being all knees, cute freckles, and teeth he's going to start having nightmares about teenage boys."

"Good! Serves him right for all the nightmares he gave me..." His mother announces with feeling. "Nightmares I only stopped having a few short years ago!"

"Who gave you nightmares?" Laura inquires from her perch on Harm's shoulder as he enters the kitchen with Laura's faithful companion at his side. He returns her to the bar stool where she previously sat and stoops to kiss his mother's cheek before buttoning up the dress shirt still open over his white undershirt.

"Your uncle did; that's who!" Trish smiles and does a silent appraisal of the girl's clothing; long sleeve white shirt with ladybugs embroidered on the collar, red denim jumper, red and white striped knee socks and bright red sneakers.

As though reading her mind, Mac removes a small light-weight jacket that is a shockingly vivid shade of lime green from its place, draped over the back of a bar stool, and hands it over to Trish.

"Even on that walker, she can get away from you, especially in a crowded area."Laura, you try not to wander away from Trish and Frank today. Stay with them, no matter how much fun the aquarium is." Returning her attention to Trish she says, "Even if she does get away from you, she's easy to spot in this jacket. If that doesn't work, Call Candy."

Upon hearing her name; the dog turns her gaze to Mac and waits expectantly.

She won't leave Laura and return to you alone in public. Tell her to …speak..." Mac pauses in the appropriate places to make sure that the dog understands the command within the flow of conversation.

Candy barks just once, but it's loud enough to mildly startle Trish in spite of the fact that she guessed it was coming.

"You'll find them." Mac says with pluck; concluding the demonstration.

"Goodness!" Trish reaches down and pats the dog's head. "Good girl. We don't have to worry about anybody snatching Laura with you around."

Mac shakes her head happily. "It's kind of neat to watch too. Even though that one bark wasn't meant to threaten anyone, it is enough to make strangers around her take at least one step back; which usually opens up a clear line of sight directly to Laura. On another note, Candy's license that verifies her status as a service dog is in the side pocket on her vest if you should need it for any reason. They cannot legally deny you entry to the aquarium with Candy, and in all likelihood they won't, but it's there, just in case. The only places I routinely have problems entering are restaurants; particularly those managed by foreigners who are unaware of the laws regarding service companions. If you do have any trouble, usually just saying the words 'She's a service dog' is enough. If it's not, politely offer to call the police and have them come explain it. Even if they don't want to comply, mention of the police is usually all the persuasion you'll need." If you do stop for lunch, go anywhere you'd like, but if you go someplace where Laura and I are frequent visitors, keep an eye on the waitresses. Make sure they don't feed Candy when they think your back is turned. They adore her and attempt to spoil her."

"Can we go for pizza?" Laura inquires hopefully.

"We'll see. It's too early to think about lunch yet. You just ate breakfast."

Caught by surprise, Trish laughs when both Laura and Chloe say in perfect union, "it's never too early to think about pizza!"

"Are we leaving soon?" Laura changes the subject; eager for the day's adventures to begin. "Are there seals at the aquarium? Is there an octopus? Do they have sharks? Are there…"

"My goodness! Can I finish my cup of coffee before we change subjects again?"

Laura nods with vigor.

"Okay, thank you. Yes, there are seals. There is an octopus and a hippopotamus too. I don't know if there are sharks. We'll find out. I really want to go see that giant sea turtles."

Laura turns her attention to her aunt. "Can I have a pet turtle?"

Mac grins; teasing the girl. "Not if it's a giant sea turtle."

"Naa, just a little one. One I can keep in a fish tank?"

"I don't know. We'll have to think about it. You don't think Candy will eat a pet turtle; do you?"

Giggling; Laura shrugs." She's never tried to eat Liam's fat goldfish, Finley. She does sniff the bowl though, especially if Liam forgets to clean it like he's supposed to."

"You've got a birthday coming up?" Trish brushes hair out of the little girl's eyes. Anything special you want?"

Laura nods with enthusiasm. "I wanted a bike but Aunt Mac said we had to ask Charlie if that was okay first. Charlie said no. Not yet. He says it will be too hard for me but I would try anyway and make myself tired and get too many leg cramps. He said maybe next year. I asked if I could get one of those scooters that you stand on and it rolls by itself. He said no again. He said if I get one of those, I'll get lazy and stop walking and my leg will turn to jell-o. So, bummer, but no wheels! I wanna go camping instead. Real camping; not just pretend camping in the backyard. Charlie said that was okay, and Uncle Harm said yes! I want my own fishing pole, and I need a new sleeping bag too. Aunt Mac threw my old one away/"

Trish listens with delight. Ask a simple question and a whole story comes with the answer; chapter and verse. "I'm sure she had a good reason for throwing the old one away. We'll get you a new one; and I've haven't bought a fishing pole in years, but I'm sure we can figure it out."

"I want a pink one!" Laura bobs her chin emphatically. "Uncle Harm knows where to get it. We saw one at Academy. It even comes with a tackle box." She pauses to grin at her uncle and then lectures sweetly as he bites into a piece of toast. "Uncle Harm you better hurry up! Miss Harriett can't be late for her doctor's appointment. You have to go get her."

"Hey, I've got time for a piece of toast. I might even put some scramble eggs and cheese on top of it. Do you know where your bag is?"

Laura rolls her eyes. "It's right by the front door. Aunt Mac put it there last night. I'm ready. Your sleeve are not even buttoned."

Mildly surprised, Harm glances down to find that the cuff of one of his sleeve's is indeed unbuttoned but before he can remedy the situation, Mac steps in close and squares him away, tending not only to his buttons, but straightening his collar as well before stealing a bite of toast from him with a flirtatious smile.

"Okay gang; train's leaving in 60 seconds." She announces while using a hand to shield her mouth from view. "Laura, you have fun at the aquarium and be good today. We'll see you sometime after lunch. She kisses Harm's cheek brusquely. Chloe and I will see you at the hospital. Skates called, she and Jack are already on their way. Tell Harriett we said good morning." She snags her keys from the countertop and heads for the door; the rest of them following along behind her with all of the noisy excitement born of anticipation.


	38. Day One - Idle Waiting Room Chatter

Chapter 38: Day One - Idle Waiting Room Chatter about Important Things.

Author's note: Hello again my friends. I hope the new year is off to a roaring start for each and every one of you. My family rarely celebrates Christmas before the new year starts. I have a sibling who lives out of state. She cannot be here on Christmas day. We always wait for her and my niece to arrive. We'd rather celebrate with them late that celebrate on the actual date without them. For us, Christmas was on New Year's Eve. My sister was here until the third and I held out; soaking up every bit of sister time I possibly could despite the fact that I was coming down with an awful cold. They won't be back again until July and I miss them already. I haven't felt up to writing since they left. It's taken me some time to recuperate and now that chest congestion has cleared, I have yet another ear infection, but this too shall pass. I'd rather have a bad start to a good year that a good start to a bad year. Let's see if I can get back into the swing of things story wise; shall we?

* * *

San Diego Fertility Clinic

As he passes the nurses' station in search of a waiting room a distracted Harm absent mindedly returns the smile of the raven-haired nurse with tired green eyes. He reads the signs posted beside doorways until he finds the one he thinks he wants.

"Looking for someone or some place?" The nurse asks, familiar with the look of one who is lost. She leaves her post hoping to be of help.

With his hand on the knob, Harm peers into the waiting room through the etched glass panel in the door and smiles at what he sees. The one he seeks is inside the room perched on an uncomfortable looking chair. She holds her cell phone in her right hand and smiles happily at whatever is displayed on the screen.

Smiling more genuinely, he turns and waves the nurse off. "I found her."

He steps into the room and closes the door quietly behind him leaving the nurse to wander back to her swivel chair behind the counter. With mild disappointment she mutters to herself "Why is it, guys like that are always looking for 'her'?"

The older, more seasoned, nurse at station beside her chuckles and shakes her head. "Sweetie, you do understand this is a fertility clinic? People come in here looking to start a family which means more than 90% of the people here are part of a couple. Which means nearly every man in this building is looking for one 'her' or another.

The younger nurse shrugs. "Yeah I know, but a girl can dream. Can't she?"

"Dream all you like honey; but if you ever hope to do more than dream, I think you're going to have to expand your dating pool."

In the waiting room, Harm quietly settles into the chair beside his wife. Despite the fact that they are the only two in the room, or maybe because of it, he leans in close and whispers. "What are you so happy about?"

Mac shifts the position of her cell phone so he can join in on the fun. It doesn't take him long to determine that his mother must be responsible for taking the video that currently plays on the screen of her phone. On camera, he watches as Frank carefully lifts Laura off the floor. The small girl perches lightly against his shoulder. While he keeps a firm grip on her, the bright eyed child lifts a large multicolored rubber beach ball high over her head and tosses it into an aquarium that is at least twice as big as their quaint living room.

Watching expectantly Harm grins when an enormous octopus that he wouldn't want to encounter in its natural habitat approaches the surface of the tank, coils a tentacle around the bobbing beach ball and hurls it back to its newest waiting playmate. Laura reaches for the ball, not quite able to catch it, but she squeals with delight anyway. Someone wearing khakis and a red polo shirt – Harm guesses that it is probably the standard uniform for an aquarium employee- trots after the foul ball and hands it back to Laura for the process to be repeated.

"Molly is our visiting North Pacific Giant Octopus. She weighs 108 pounds, and she's 9 feet long. She's young. Only about a year old, she might grow to weigh 150 pounds and be as much as 15 feet long. She likes to play catch. She likes to put on a show for kids, and it gives her some exercise too. She came here because she was sick and she needed some help to get well. She's feeling better and is scheduled to be released next month."

Laura hurls the ball once again and waits for its return as she eyes their host curiously. "Released? Released where?"

"Back to the ocean. It'll be good for her. An octopus her size shouldn't be kept in a tank long term; not even one this big. She needs to be free. She prefers to live about 200 feet below the water's surface, but her species of octopi are highly adaptable. So she can get use to, or at least tolerate, change for awhile."

Laura watches the octopus swim slowly toward the bobbing ball on water's surface and nods solemnly. "It's no fun being trapped someplace you don't like. If she's well, you should let her go. If she has family, they probably miss her."

"Octopi are solitary creatures. They prefer to be alone. Usually only coming into contact with another when they mate. They die shortly after their eggs hatch. If Molly ever has the chance she'll produce nearly 100,000 eggs, and only about 1000 of them will hatch and even less will reach maturity."

"Huh? What does that mean?" You mean grow up? Get big?"

"Yep. That's what that means. Other ocean animals like to eat baby octopi, so a lot of them don't get to grow up. Molly likes to eat shrimp, fish, clams, crabs and even some small species of shark."

Laura's eyes stretch wide. Distracted, she giggles when the returned beach ball smacks her lightly on the shoulder. Ignoring the ball, she stares into the aquarium in wonder. "She eats sharks!"

The aquarium employee laughs and gestures with her hands before bending and retrieving the ball once more." Yeah; but only little ones. The bigger ones will eat her if they get the chance. She's better at hiding than they are at seeking."

Laura nods with enthusiasm. "Okay." She takes the offered ball and hurls it high overhead one last time. "What's next! Grandma wants to see the big sea turtles. Bye bye Molly. I hope you get to go home soon!"

The video ends and Mac drops her phone into the designated pocket of her handbag before lacing her fingers through Harm's "She's having a blast!"

He nods and grins. "Let's wait awhile and then take her back. Go with her."

"We should. If this all goes the way we want it to, a little bit of one-on-one time with her might be good. We should get it while we can."

He nods again. "Where is everybody?"

"Harriet and Chloe have already been examined and gone through the personal stuff. They took Jack downstairs to the snack bar to distract him. Skates is in with the doctor now. He was okay here until she went in. Then he got anxious, or he already was and she's just good at keeping him in line. After she went in, He got bored and started asking wild questions about pictures in a magazine about in vitro fertilization. We decided to get him out of here before he had the chance to make any other patients uncomfortable. When they are finished with Skates, we'll have a sort of group question and answer period. I'm okay doing it by myself if need be. You might want to take Jack away from here. We'll wait and see. He might want to stay, especially since Skates might be involved. They like to act like this thing between them is just casual, but I have a feeling that tide may be shifting."

Harm tilts his head thoughtfully before he continues with their quiet conversation. "I didn't see this one coming, but I think you may be right. Doctor see you already?"

Mac nods.

"How'd that go?"

"Like it always does. I'd rather be out on a date alone with Jack the Ripper's little brother. But at least there were no surprises. Nothing's better, nothing's worse. How did yours go?"

He shrugs and she senses his discomfort. "Okay I guess. No immediate red flags. I wasn't expecting all the questions though."

"Questions? Which questions?" She smiles and touches his face affectionately; fairly certain she knows the answer.

"I'm not exactly sure why they need to know so much about our sex life." He breathes quietly. "Why do they need to know about our habits?"

"They need to know who they're dealing with for our best chance at success. You do realize that once they put me on medication and hormones, prior to egg harvesting, they're going to tell us to stop having sex?"

She watches him squint for a long moment and then he throws back his head and laughs at the irony of it all. "Seems a bit counterproductive. Certainly not in line with what I was taught."

She gently nudges his bicep with her shoulder. "I know. But they'll be trying to achieve a delicate hormonal balance prior to the extraction. If you and I don't stop, at least for awhile, we'll mess that up. They're going to pump me full of hormones that may very well increase my libido and then expect us to behave." She whispers and steals a light kiss.

His laughter dissolves into a groan. "So what you're saying is, this is going to be torture."

Her dark eyes are warm when she nods." I'm pretty sure it will be, but whoever we choose, after we know the transplant was successful we can send Laura to spend the weekend with your parents or maybe with Liam. Have a little getaway, or maybe just stay home. Whichever we choose, clothing will be optional."

For a moment he leans back, stating up at the ceiling. "Think maybe we can do that before you start taking those hormones too."

She smiled seductively. "I have no objection to that counselor, but we'll have to figure out the timing. Thanksgiving is six days away. And Laura's birthday is less than two weeks away. You promised to take her camping. Whoever we choose for surrogacy, Dr. Thayer will want to start prepping me soon after the holiday. By New Year's maybe we can do the harvesting closely followed by the transplant. By Valentine's Day we could be expecting some good news; maybe pencil in that second getaway for two."

Harm smiles in anticipation.

"This is all tentative, of course. Subject to change. "

He squeezes her hand. "I know, but let's pencil it in anyway."

Mac nods as the door to the waiting room opens. Elizabeth Hawkes walks in closely followed by her doctor; who pauses in the doorway, the two of them in the middle of a conversation. "Take a break. Go stretch your legs. Get a cup of coffee while I talk to the captain and the colonel together. Half an hour and then come back. Bring the others with you if you can. We'll have a little group chat so that everybody can ask questions, express concerns, and/or get a general idea of expectations and responsibilities regarding what happens next."

Mac raises an eyebrow in silent inquiry as she and Harm come to their feet and Skates anticipates her unasked question before turning to shake the doctor's hand. "A lot easier than I thought it would be." She tells Mac. "Not what I would call a piece of cake; but not difficult either." She offers Harm a hopeful smile. "I'm going to go find the others. Hopefully Keeter hasn't embarrassed either one of them too badly yet."

Harm chuckles. It's a safe bet that he's either embarrassing them or flirting with them."

"Possibly both at the same time." Mac jokes as she and Harm fall into step with her doctor; the two of them still hand in hand.


	39. Commencing Operation Stork

**Chapter 39: Commencing Operation Stork**

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**Author's note**: This chapter took a lot longer to write than I thought it would. It's 5:00 AM! I'm going to sleep now! At least for a few hours. I hope you like it in spite of some of the mundane medical details

* * *

San Diego Fertility Clinic

"Doctor?"

Their escort with short spiky blond hair turns and smiles at her nurse. "Yes Marisol?"

"A moment please?"

She opens her office door for the couple with her and waves them in. "Go on in. I'll be right with you." As she closes the door behind them. Mac takes one of the guest chairs and Harm slowly prowls the small space aimlessly.

Mac idly fingers the filigree pendant on the gold chain around her neck and smiles at him as she straightens the necklace; returning the clasp to the back of her neck. "Relax Flyboy. The physical exams are over for the day. She won't be gone long."

"What's she doing?"

Mac shrugs. "She's probably tending to another patient, or maybe glancing at some test results. She's blocked out 2/3 her day on her calendar for us. We can give her a moment or two."

"How do you know that?"

The Marine scoots forward slightly in her seat and points to the desk pad counter on the desk before her and the square indicating the day's date. Two thirds of the square is filled with a single unmistakable word written in a cursive flourish. "Rabb"

She realizes he's more anxious than uncomfortable and she takes his hand when he moves to stand near for his own examination of the calendar.

He looks down at her with a grin and raises an eyebrow "You read upside down?"

She smirks and teases affectionately. "I know it's a skill that not everyone is adept at, but I would think you could recognize your own name; backward, forward, upside down… and even inside out." She adds with just a touch of sass.

He perches on the arm of the seat next to hers and asks, "How exactly do you turn Rabb inside out?

She purses her lips and mulls this over for a second before answering with a quiet smile "Take away his gold wings?"

"You're in a good mood. I expected you to be the one who was on pins and needles today."

"I've wanted to do this for years. I even thought about doing it without you, but everything in me screamed 'no.' Besides, you keep telling me it'll all work out somehow. Either I believe in you or I don't; and if I don't, then how did we get here?"

He searches her face and despite her lighthearted mood he sees the faint traces of strain. The dark circles under her eyes courtesy of a restless night may be hidden from view by carefully applied make up, but he still knows they're there.

He pats her knee affectionately before he rises to his feet, looking for something to distract the both of them. A quiet knock signals the doctor's return as he points to a life-sized anatomy model in the corner of the office. "Talk about inside out!" He grins crossing the small, but well appointed, room in three easy steps. "It looks like it comes apart… Like a puzzle."

Aware of what's about to happen, Mac warns "Harm don't." But she's too late. When he attempts to remove the replica of an unborn child from the center its plastic womb; several other synthetic organs fall out of the three dimensional puzzle and land at his feet.

While he looks mildly embarrassed, Mac glances at the doctor apologetically and sees the telltale hint of a smile. It's not the first time this has happened in her office so the Marine rises to her feet and steps to her husband's side where she examines the puzzle piece still in his hand. In spite of the fact that it isn't obvious by looking, she proclaims, "Congratulations Dad! It's a boy! But you've just disemboweled Mommy." She kneels, picks up the assortment of organs, rises once more, and begins putting them back into place. She pauses occasionally to turn a piece this way or that, finding just the right fit, as she continues to tease. "Poor baby boy! I'm sorry but Daddy got his medical license from a box of Cracker Jack."

The doctor chuckles comically while Harm rolls his eyes and Mac takes the baby from him and tucks the little one back into place. Finished, she takes Harm by the hand once more and returns to their seats as the doctor glances at her handiwork.

"That's pretty impressive. Most of my patients, or their husbands, have found it rather easy to take that model apart and nearly impossible to put it back together."

Mac shrugs. "It's been about 30 years since I played with Anatomy Jane, but I'm pretty good with spatial concepts."

"Anatomy Jane?" Harm squints.

"She's a doll similar to a Barbie doll. But her torso and abdominal cavity open up. She's meant to teach young girls to properly identify and locate the body's organs."

The doctor comments, "I don't remember Anatomy Jane being pregnant."

"Oh, she wasn't, but my memory of high school biology did help some; even though it too was a while ago. That, and there are a limited number of ways that all those pieces will fit back in there. Still, I'll admit I got a little confused with the liver and pancreas. I guessed."

"Good guess." the doctor perches on, and wraps her fingers around the edge of her desk. "Let's talk Operation Stork, shall we?

Mac chuckles and offers a soft but adamant 'yes' as Harm silently squeezes her hand and nods eagerly.

"First, I have to compliment the two of you on your choices for candidates for surrogacy. They're all intelligent, capable, confident women. Each of them is healthy and genuinely wants to help you grow your family. I have heard each of them ask perfectly normal questions and express perfectly normal concerns under the circumstances. Not one of them has any overwhelming doubts about this."

She pauses for a moment to collect her thoughts and to prepare them for what comes next.

"The only one I'm going to veto is Chloe… And the only reasons for that are her age and lack of experience; which will come with time. If the two of you decide you want to try this again in… let's say five years, and if she still wants to help, bring her back. She's healthy. She's devoted to you. She'll take care of herself and the any child she carries; be it hers or yours. In five years time she will be suitable; just not now."

The doctor studies the faces of the couple before her. He simply looks relieved while her patient wears a look that is an odd mixture of uncertainty and relief. "Problem Sarah?"

"Just a little one. For now, can we please just focus on what we're doing this time? I'm not even ready to think about, much less talk about, the possibility of a next time. I can't think about what we might or might not be doing five years from now. I want kids, but I don't want so many that I don't have enough time to give each one of them the time or attention they deserve. And I still want to have time for myself, and time for him." She smiles at Harm. "Laura does have, and will continue to have, needs that most other children won't have, and we've already talked about obtaining custody of her. Also, I hate to even say this out loud. It would be horrible, but God forbid anything does happen to Bud and Harriett at the same time, all four of their children would be living with us…"

Harm inhales deeply. "I didn't even think about that."

When the doctor raises an inquiring eyebrow, he says, "We're godparents to their four children. She's right. If for any reason, they are both unable to care for their children, it becomes our responsibility. It's unlikely, but not impossible."

He pauses to grin at Mac. "We're going to need a bigger house if that happens… a lot bigger."

She pats his thigh with her free hand. "It's taken care of."

"Oh, is it?"

"Harriet says it will be bad enough losing both parents. She would at least like them to be able to stay in their home if they can. If she and Bud are gone tomorrow, we get the house. If we can't stay in DC, which would be likely given our careers, then at least we can sell the house and use the money for the kids." Mac turns her full attention back to Rebecca Thayer. Also, with a procedure like this one, if it works, there is an increased chance of multiple births; right?"

"There is, yes."

"I know it's extremely rare; but I've read about couples that give birth to large numbers of children… Five, six, seven at a time. I really don't want that."

"I'm glad to hear it. As a medical professional I'm not supposed to have an opinion. However, in the exceedingly uncommon event that does happen, I have watched husbands and wives struggle horrendously just trying to manage ordinary day to day life. Appropriate time for each child, not to mention time for themselves, or for their marriage, goes out the window. I know it's their choice, and it should be, but when you've got that many children who are all the same age I don't think you're really raising them. I think it's more like warehousing them. Then again," she smiles in a self deprecating way. "I'm not exactly an expert. I only have the one. He's 14, and he keeps me plenty busy all by himself. But, I've digressed, back to the two of you. The greater the number of births, the more danger your surrogate is going to be in, and even if she carries to term, the more health complications your children are going to have. Even a set of twins-just two babies- have a greater risk of low birth weight, which can cause a very long list of medical problems. Five children or more, and you'll never stop paying medical bills. Most parents are willing to accept an unhealthy child once the child is born, but, no one starts this process wanting an unhealthy child. Thankfully, multiple births in high numbers are rare. No one likes to talk about it, but if it does happen, there are options. None of them are pleasant. So I suggest we avoid talking about them unless we have to. You're going to have enough to focus on even if that doesn't happen."

Harm nods as Mac picks up the thread of her thoughts once more. "We're okay with Chloe's not being an ideal candidate right now. I didn't want to tell her no when she offered for fear that I might hurt her. We didn't really mean to put you in the hot seat. It's just…"

"Oh no! Please, by all means, put me in the hot seat!" She grins with enthusiasm. "I'm perfectly willing to take point on this. No is always easier to hear coming from a stranger than from one you love. This happens more often than you might think. A couple like yourselves wants a child and some family member who may not be entirely appropriate for the task volunteers. They say no themselves, and it causes a rift in the fabric of their family that can last for years. You should know, her head isn't stuck in the sand about this. We've already talked about it. She's aware she's not good match… for now. She seems disappointed, but not terribly. I think what she really wants most is just to be supportive. She joked about leaving Vermont, and moving closer just so you two would have a baby sitter at your beck and call regardless of who you choose as your surrogate. I wouldn't put it past her. She's delightfully headstrong."

Mac nods in quiet but eager agreement as Harm chuckles. "You don't know the half of it Doc! All the females in my life are forces of nature; even the pixie-sized six year old who's about to be seven and letting everybody know it. They all seem to be drawn to me for some reason."

The spirited physician across from him smiles and challenges," Ever think maybe it's you who's drawn to them?"

Mac gives him a wide eyed smile as he answers with his usual charm and honestly "Without a doubt."

"Okay, Sarah's fine. She's good to start treatment as soon as we get the last of your test results back Harm. From what I've seen, I don't anticipate any problems. Your physical checks out so far. Additionally, we'll check sperm count and motility. It'll take a few days to get those results back. Assuming all goes well; Sarah can begin treatment- let's say some time shortly after Thanksgiving. The last time we talked. Harriet was your top choice. Is that still the case?"

"Yes." Mac answers immediately then pauses to look at Harm; giving him a chance to weigh in. He wastes no time nodding his consent before she continues. "If Skates gets PCS'd from Germany like she wants, she may be more convenient location wise, but in spite of the obvious obstacles, we're still confident that Harriet is the best choice for us."

"Okay, so as long as all goes well Harriet's your choice. Let's take a minute and talk about how you're going to handle the geographical distance between your families. Your jobs require you to be here. Her life requires her to be there. If she does become pregnant… Then what?"

"She will spend as much time as possible at home in DC and we'll rack up as many frequent flyer miles as we can spending time with her. Although we want to, we don't need to watch her every moment. That's just one thing that makes her our best choice. Our baby will be safe her. We know that. There's e-mail, and all kinds of video chat services. We'll still be a part of pregnancy… As much as possible." Harm answers.

"I'm assuming you'll both want to be present for the birth?"

"Yes!" The answer comes in two part harmony.

The doctor nods smiling. "We're getting a little ahead of ourselves, but how do you want to handle that? She won't be permitted to fly for most of her final trimester. Do you intend to fly her here before she's grounded?"

"No. We can't ask her to spend more than two months here with us. She has her own life, her own responsibilities. We can't take that much time off work either or pull Laura out of school for that long. We're just going to hope for the best, hope this child arrives somewhere close to its due date. If not, we'll get on a plane as soon as Bud calls, and pray we make it in time. Whenever her due date is, I think we'll fly out the week of; assuming no complications before then. If possible, we would like to arrive in DC a few days before she goes into labor. This is the one part about choosing Harriet that Harm and I don't like; but there's just no way around it. It's about a 5 hour flight, but all of Harriet's labors have been considerably longer than that… Well except for A.J. Our oldest godson was in a hurry to get here…" Mac smiles at the memory.

"And he hasn't slowed down yet!" Harm adds proudly. "I think that boy ran before he walked."

"Assuming the pregnancy progresses normally and without incident. There is the option to induce labor at a specific time." Mac begins shaking her head vehemently before the doctor finishes. "That may make things easier for the two of you."

"No, absolutely not!"

The unexpected force with which his wife speaks mildly startles Harm. They haven't even talked about this yet. Surprised, he watches mutely as she continues a bit more quietly, because she hadn't meant to speak so loudly, but still with the fiery glint of passion in her eyes.

"Not unless there is a medical reason to do so. You'll have a fight on your hands from both me and Harriett! I will only allow it if Harriet or the baby is in trouble. She changed doctors midway through her pregnancy with Jimmy because she fell like her obstetrician was pushing her to induce. She heard rumors from other patients that he induced all his expectant mothers on Wednesdays. My guess is, it was either convenient for the hospital, or he had a golf game or something else he didn't want to risk missing on Thursdays or Fridays. I won't do it! I know that labor is triggered by a hormone release, but no one seems to know exactly what triggers that hormone release or why it happens when it does. Harriet says babies come when they're ready to and as long as there's not a valid medical reason to interfere with that; we shouldn't. She has four healthy, beautiful, happy children. She's obviously done something right, and I'm completely comfortable trusting her judgment on this; especially after what happened last year. One of the women in my office actually had her labor induced for the sake of convenience. Only it turned out that her due date was miscalculated. As soon as her daughter was born the doctor looked at her, smiled, and said, "Well it looks like she could've stayed in there another six weeks." Mac shakes her head adamantly once again. "That's not going to happen to my baby; not if I have anything to say about it!"

Her doctor smiles. "You do have something to say about it. Apparently you have plenty to say about it, and that you're right."

"Harriet's right, there are just some things we shouldn't mess with!"

"So, we won't. We won't induce without cause. I'm not a fan of it myself. I just wanted to make you aware of the option. Does that mean a pre-planned caesarean is also out of the question?

Mac starts to speak, then squints and stops. "My knee jerk reaction is yes. I don't have a medical degree, but to me a caesarean without cause doesn't sound any better than inducing for the sake of convenience. However, maybe Harriet should have some say in that. I'm pretty sure she'll agree with me, but I'd rather ask just to be on the safe side. It is her body."

Dr. Thayer nods. "Some women do schedule them, because they think it makes labor and delivery easier on them. While it's less painful, thanks to anesthesia, I don't believe it's easier. Not for the baby, or for the one delivering the baby. The recovery time for a caesarean is considerably longer than the recovery time for a vaginal birth.

"I know Harriet pretty well. She didn't plan a caesarean with any of her children. I don't think she will. I'd still like to ask her though."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Or at least the beginning of one." Mac smiles when Harm lets go of her hand to wrap his arm around her shoulders.

"Let's go meet with the three of them in a group setting. Chloe asked to sit in even though she knows she's no longer a candid. Give them all the chance to ask questions and to voice concerns before you make your choice officially known. I've had intended parents make a decision in here with me and then change their minds after a group meeting. I don't foresee that happening in your case, but these types of meetings are helpful because oftentimes one woman isn't comfortable asking a question she needs an answer to but another person is completely comfortable asking. You can ask questions too, either of the group as a whole, or of an individual person. Also, no matter who asks, sometimes an unexpected question can lead to a whole new line of questioning. It's usually helpful for everyone involved. We have a conference room down the hall that will be more comfortable for the group than my postage stamp of an office. She grins at her own joke as they rise and she ushers them to the door.


	40. One Lively Group

Chapter 40: One Lively Group

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Author's note: I have a confession to make. I don't recall very many details about the births of Bud and Harriet's three youngest children. I don't feel like surfing through years of video to refresh my memory so when you come to the appropriate part in this chapter, please be advised, It's all true. I know this for certainty because I made it up myself!

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San Diego Fertility Clinic

Bud Roberts drops the kind of small paper cup that one finds in a hospital cafeteria into an insulating cardboard sleeve and then pours black coffee into it. He tears open two packets of sweetener and dumps them in before grabbing a swizzle stick intent on returning to the meeting area across the room with its wide semicircle of chairs. As he turns he inadvertently kicks the table leg with his prosthetic limb and knocks himself off balance. Before catastrophe can ensue a small but strong shoulder is there to render aid; tucked under his arm just when he needs it most. He turns his head, expecting to see his wife's blue eyes smiling back at him. Instead he's pleasantly surprised to find a brunette friend, one who is obviously pleased to see him, at his side.

"Steady Sailor." Mac breathes quietly and smiles at him. She skillfully camouflages the moment by hugging him in greeting; knowing that rare occurrences like this one are uncomfortable for him; especially if someone calls attention to them.

All he needs to right himself is a second and as soon as she senses that he is indeed steady again, she releases him and selects a cup for her own. Desperately wanting coffee for herself; she instead tears open a packet containing an herbal tea blend and adds hot water from a nearby carafe.

"Impeccable timing as always Colonel." He whispers; smiling with gratitude.

She stretches her dark eyes wide and shrugs in an 'it's nothing' gesture. "Glad you made it Bud. I heard there was some problem with your baby sitter's arrival?"

Still smiling, Bud nods and glances down at the cup in her hand with mild confusion. "Not your usual octane?"

As they talk, he offers her his arm and escorts her across the room.

"I have to give up marine-grade sludge for awhile… at least until we know for sure that Baby Rabb is on his or her way."

"Harriet always cut down on caffeine when she was expecting, but it never occurred to me that you might have to; not under these circumstances."

She nods, sips her weak tea, and frowns in disgust. "Caffeine ramps up the body's startle responses; makes us all more edgy. The heart beats faster, the blood pressure increases. The doctor says it will have an effect on my egg harvesting. I'm really just supposed to cut back seriously until after, but I think I'll wait until after we know a baby is coming. That way if they need to harvest more, they won't have to wait for me to get through caffeine withdrawal again. I'm trying to survive on only two small cups a day now; one first thing in the morning and one after dinner. Before I start the hormone therapy meant to increase egg production, I'm going to try to quit completely."

"How's it going?"

'Bad Bud, bad! Yesterday I yelled at Laura for blowing bubbles in her milk. And kissed Harm for no reason other than the fact that he tasted like coffee. Feels an awful lot like drying out did; minus the vomiting and hallucinations.

"Hallucinations?"

The grim look on her face belies her words "Oh yeah, fun stuff!"

"Somehow I doubt that." He says with quiet sympathy.

"Laura's going to run away from home and Harm is going to divorce me before this is over!"

"Not a chance!" He chuckles quietly. "Laura has experienced far worse than just being yelled at. She's tougher than Mighty Mouse! As for Harm, he's pretty thick skinned, and take it from me, no man minds being kissed; whatever the reason." He gives her arm a friendly pat and says conspiratorially, "There are times he might mind who's doing the kissing, but I think we both know that's never been a problem for the two of you."

"Thanks Bud!" She laughs; feeling less insecure. "What was the problem with the babysitter?"

"Harriet's parents were coming into town. They've been on vacation somewhere. I forget where. Forgive me but, Harriet's mother prattles on endlessly. Sometimes I just can't listen anymore."

Mac giggles quietly and squeezes his arm. "Wild horses won't drag it from me."

"Their flight was supposed to arrive well before ours left… obviously, but the flight was delayed. They wound up stuck on a overnight layover in Kentucky. I wanted to be here, but sent Harriet on without me. Thankfully, they arrived in time for me to catch a later flight."

"Kentucky?"

Bud's round jovial face is alight with mirth when he whispers. "I don't think Mrs. Simms has ever been there before. I don't think she cared at all for the people or the locale."

Mac nods and whispers, "Not quite up to her standard?"

"Definitely not."

"Look at you two with your heads together." Harriet greets them warmly as they take seats on either side of her. What are you whispering about?"

"A couple of different things Harriet. How unpleasant I am without coffee; and culture shock." Mac says lightly.

Harriet chuckles knowingly. "Bud has been telling you how much my mother loved Kentucky." She concludes with certainty. Where's Harm?"

"He'll be here shortly. He went to find a men's room, and after that he'll track down the rest of our group." As Chloe joins them, taking the empty seat on Mac's other side and folding one leg beneath herself, the marine asks, "How are you? Are you okay?"

Chloe nods eagerly with only the faintest trace of disappointment in her warm eyes. "You told me it would probably go this way. It's okay. I'll find some other way to help out. You and Harm care if I stay for the meeting?"

Mac shakes her head and squeezes the girl's shoulders before resting their foreheads together. "You're more than welcome here."

They embrace one another until Mac looks up when the doctor enters the room. "Rebecca, do you want one of the chairs in the center of the arc?"

"No, I'll stand. The two middle seats belong to you and Harm. We're all here for you. You two are calling the shots. I'm just here to facilitate." The blonde in her royal purple scrubs and walking shoes that are an electric shade of blue chooses, instead, to lean casually against the outermost wall of the room; resting lightly against the wide window seal and crossing her feet at the ankles.

She observes their friendly chatter for a few moments unobtrusively; getting a feel for the group dynamic. She watches them all talk like old familiar friends. Often their words overlapping or their sentences going unfinished because they understand each other well and they've shared many of the same experiences, so that frequently there is no need for any one of them to fully verbalize a thought for comprehension to be complete. She watches the women control the flow of conversation and pretty much everything else too. She watches as Harriet helps herself to the coffee cup in her husband's hand and takes a small sip without comment before returning it to the same place. They're talking happily about the antics of their various young children when the door opens again and Elizabeth Hawkes is preceded by her sandy haired companion who pauses and turns back to hold the door open for her. The both of them are closely followed by Harm.

Not for the first time, the doctor is struck not only by the height of these two appealing men but also by the graceful, yet formal, posture of all of them; with the exception of perhaps young Chloe. However, despite her youthful and relaxed carefree way, even she has picked up a small but noticeable trace of their magnetic bearing and made it her own.

It must be the 'military' in them the doctor muses in silent appreciation. Even out of uniform the indelible fingerprints of order and discipline are unmistakable.

"Okay." She leaves the window seal and remains standing, but rests one knee in the seat of the chair at the end of the arc nearest her as Chloe gets up without comment and moves to the opposite end of the group; effectively vacating her own seat so that the Navy captain can sit next to his wife. "Who wants a start the ball rolling?" The doctor raises an eyebrow in inquiry.

Harm clears his throat. "I guess first, Mac and I want to say thank you. We never expected you're showing up here today to happen this simply. You have each stepped up and gotten us here to this point so much more quickly and easily than we thought possible. We're touched and grateful beyond words. Please, feel free to ask anything." He makes eye contact with each of them and, as is usual in group settings, there's a hesitant momentary silence. No one wants to be the first to voice a concern.

When it becomes clear that no one else is going to leap first, Bud jumps in with a chuckle. "I guess this really isn't a question, but our two oldest have asked us to deliver a couple of messages. Aware of what he's about to say, Harriet giggles quietly as Bud continues. "A.J. wants a pretty girl cousin; one that looks like Aunt Mac, to which Jimmy replied, 'Hey bird brain, we already have one of those. Her name is Laura!' After which, he vetoed the notion of a girl cousin. Jimmy wants a boy cousin. We tried to tell them it is likely that one of them is going to be disappointed, but somehow they're both confident that they'll each get their own way." He pauses for a moment as several of his friends chuckle in response. "Seriously though, that does lead me to a question. We told them we were coming here to help you guys plan for a baby. However, we've have yet to try to explain surrogacy to them. Ten years from now, I don't think the twins will remember this at all. Jimmy might, and A.J. definitely will. How are we supposed to explain this to them; especially if it's Harriet who carries this child?"

Harriet pats his knee. "Honey, we'll just tell them the truth."

Bud squints at his wife incredulously. "You wanna tell our boys that doctors are gonna mix Uncle Harm and Aunt Mac's baby up in a Petri dish and then put it inside you until it's ready to be born? Don't you think they might find that a little confusing?"

Smiling, Mac shakes her head and says gently, "I don't think so Bud. You're over thinking this. That's pretty much the way we explained it to Laura. Well, first we explained to her that I couldn't carry the baby myself, and then we followed up with the rest. She wasn't confused. Amazed maybe, but not confused. We were worried about that too. She thought about it for all of five seconds and then shrugged and informed us that it sounded like a science experiment. Your kids are smart. If you're okay with it, they will be too. Since we've already been there and done that, my best advice is, try not to be too scientific about it; unless they specifically ask for the complicated details. Don't use big words, but at the same time, don't dumb it down either. Just talk to them. If that doesn't work, we'll let Laura talk to them."

Harriet nods. "Not a bad idea. Kids have their own language. They explain things to each other… understand each other, on a level that adults just can't hit anymore. But, I really think they'll be fine, like you said, as long as we are."

The doctor speaks up again. "We have literature about how to do just that… explain this to your young children if you really want it Commander Roberts, but the ladies have the right idea. Just tell them. Answer their questions, but don't give them more information than they're ready for. It's your choice, of course, but I don't believe kids ask questions they're not ready to hear the answers to, and if I may say so myself, Laura's right. It is a science experiment. Just a few short years ago, that's all it was."

"Kids are more malleable than adults. It seems most of them aren't set in their ways of thinking." Skates weighs in. "Any suggestions on how to explain this to an adult who isn't receptive?. My elderly aunt thinks it's beautiful. My mother… not so much. She thinks it's a weird, and unnatural. She thinks my willingness to be involved in this is just bizarre. In her mind, it's too big of a sacrifice. I can't seem to find a way to alter her thinking. She has a loose understanding of how. She just doesn't understand why I want to, or why anyone would want to. She thinks we're messing with Mother Nature."

Harm and Mac both squint and turn to the doctor, at a loss for how to best advise their friend. The doctor nods. This is something she's heard frequently in recent years.

"None of the thoughts you mentioned are uncommon. Your elderly aunt thinks it's beautiful, most likely because she understands the value of having a child. However, it's usually the elderly that have the most trouble comprehending or supporting something like this. May I ask; does she have any children of her own?"

Skates shakes her head. "She and my uncle were never able, and when they were young enough, something like this wasn't possible. They took in every stray kid in the neighborhood. I'm sure they wanted their own. I think I was theirs by default."

Rebecca Thayer offers her a soft smile of understanding."I can give you some literature as well, but if your mother is truly closed off to the idea, there isn't much you'll do or say to change her mind. Some people are just against it. I suggest you ask your aunt to try and explain it to your mother. If she can't explain the desire to have a child through whatever means possible to your mother, my guess is no one ever will. Try telling her though that we aren't messing with Mother Nature. We're simply giving her a helping hand. I'm not in the business of trying to make designer babies. While some medical scientists are working to find ways to ensure that unborn children are either male or female, blue eyed or red headed, artistic or athletic; that is one giant step too far for me. I personally do think that is messing with Mother Nature. That's not what Harm and Mac are asking us for, and if they were, I wouldn't help them. They simply want their child. This less than conventional method may give them that child. Ultimately, if that child is born, how it happens will cease to matter to your mother. The desire for a child is one of the most natural human desires there is. There's nothing bizarre about it. I'll also suggest to you that if you can't change her mind, and you do carry a child for Harm and Sarah, you not try to include your mother in your support system. You'll have enough to contend with without that kind of negative interference. I'm not saying cut her out of your life; I'm saying don't go looking to her when you find yourself in need of support, understanding, or sympathy."

Mac chuckles wryly. "I just realized, I haven't even talked to my own mother about this. She knows absolutely nothing about it because, pregnant or not, she's not a part of my support system. Her name doesn't even make the bottom of the list of the people that I turn to for support. I have no idea how she's going to feel about this."

The doctor shrugs. "So tell her. Give her a chance to express what she thinks or how she feels, just realize that however she thinks or feels, that's about her and not about you. You're doing this for yourselves, not because you're seeking anyone's approval. The same goes for your surrogate. Ladies, if you're offering to do this because you're seeking someone's approval, and I don't think anyone here is, but if you are, then you need to do both Harm and Sarah a favor and graciously bow out right now."

The room is quiet for a few long seconds until Jack Keeter takes a long look around, and then offers "Doesn't look like anybody's leaving Doc."

"I didn't expect anybody would. It's just the standard warning I issue to all potential surrogates."

"Bud chimes in again. "How, if in any way, should we expect a surrogate pregnancy to be different than one started in… uh… the usual way."

"Once the pregnancy is safely underway, there isn't much difference. In the beginning, until we're sure the pregnancy is stable; a surrogate will take medication to help her foster the pregnancy. Because we're using Mac's eggs, the eggs themselves will be foreign to the surrogate's body. Without medication, her immune system will aggressively attack the fertilized eggs we transplant. Because this medication is a mild immuno-suppressive drug it'll be even more important that she remain healthy. We don't like for any expectant mother to come down with a cold, much less anything worse. With surrogates we take extra preventative measures. They'll take the standard prenatal vitamins and Folic acid. We'll also load them up with extra vitamin C and other natural immune system boosters that won't harm the baby. We'll ask for you do your best to avoid prolonged exposure to harsh weather. We'll encourage literally excessive hand washing and frequent disinfecting of all household high traffic areas. Once we're certain the pregnancy is stable, we may stop the medication or, more likely, we will lower the dosage significantly because by suppressing the surrogate's immune system we're also endangering the child. The goal is to achieve a delicate balance and keep both the child and the surrogate as healthy as possible. Beyond that, and barring complications, the pregnancy will progress naturally. The most significant difference by far, will be how the pregnancy starts; not the pregnancy itself. You and Harriett have been through four of them already. You're old hands at this. Once you get past the first two of three months, it's going to all feel eerily familiar."

"I'm not an old hand at this." Skates says honestly. "And no offense, but neither are you Mac." She smiles in mild relief when Mac nods unoffended by her candor. Harriet, if I'm the one who does this, can I call you… a lot? Will that be okay?"

Both Harriet and Mac nod vigorously, and laughter bubbles out of Harriet. "Call me all you like! I'm going to be calling you too; making sure everything is okay."

"Good! I found out yesterday the Navy is going to PCS me. So I'll be here. I will be available, and I do want to do this if you need me to. I just don't want to do it by myself." She laughs, mildly and pleasantly startled, when the words, "You won't." come from all directions at once.

"We still feel that Harriet will be our best option Beth." Harm admits gently. "But I'm glad you'll be here. We're proud to have all of you here and we may need you. No matter which of you does this for us, you're not going to face this pregnancy alone. Mac and I are going to be as involved as it is humanly possible to be. We'll support this pregnancy, both financially, and emotionally. We'll visit. We'll answer the phone no matter what time of day or night you call. We'll be there if there are complications. We'll be there if there are no complications. We'll attend both the transplant and the birth. You'll be sick of us before it's over." He flashes his customary grin.

Suddenly curious, and unable to curb that inquisitiveness, Keeter asks, "How long does this transplant take, and how complicated is it?"

"It's an outpatient procedure." The doctor supplies, "And it will take less than 30 minutes; usually closer to 15 or 20."

"Is that all?"

"That's all. The transplant itself is relatively simple. I'll be there with one nurse. Harm and Mac will be there, and one other person of the surrogate's choosing is allowed. It's really not that much different from an insemination; with the exception of a little more medical equipment." She smiles. The part that requires painstaking precision will be the egg harvesting and the fertilization. Both of these are things that the surrogate won't need to be present for."

Keeter shakes his head and grins. "Six people in the room to conceive a child… kind of impersonal ain't it?"

Laughing, the good doctor assures, "It's definitely shorter in the romance department than the customary way a child gets its start. You aren't the first person to point this out, and, believe me, you won't be the last. That's why we encourage both the parents and the surrogate to find alternative ways to make the occasion special. I've had patients come up with some pretty unique ideas and I'll roll with pretty much anything as long as everybody is safe. I welcome you to get creative, do your own thing, and please try to have at least a little fun with it. Otherwise, it's going to be a dreadful, medically sterile, bore. I'm afraid the celebratory glass of champagne is out, but I had one couple go on an Alaskan cruise after their transplant was complete. Another couple went bungee jumping. I don't see the appeal in that myself, but they loved it."

Mac smiles at Harm and pats his thigh. "Picnic lunch after a flight in a certain bright yellow biplane?"

He drops an arm around her shoulders and flashes his smile. "Or a trip out to the mesa with some of those oranges from Mom's tree?"

"We can't rent any more helicopters. You can't land Sarah up there. Even if you do manage it, you'd never get her down. You gonna climb up there with me?"

He eyes her skeptically. "When was the last time you climbed up there?"

She shrugs as if what she's about to say is no big deal. "Two years before I met you, but I can still do it!"

"Uh huh…let's think of something else."

"K, fine. Don't believe me." She says playfully.

Keeter shoots her a look of obvious uncertainty." You can climb that infernal rock? Why would you want to? And just out of curiosity, when was the first time you did that?"

"Yes I can, and because it is fun; that's why! My first climb? All the way to the top? With my own harness?"

He nods.

"I was 12 the first time I made it all the way up. I tried it at 10, but only made it 3/4 of the way up. I got too tired to finish."

"Funny." He declares dryly, looking her up and down. "You don't look like you went splat all over the desert floor."

"Of course not!" Mac declares with pluck. "Uncle Matt was there both times. He kept me safe."

"And again… this is your idea of fun?"

Mac nods vigorously.

Keeter points at her as he looks his oldest and closest friend in the eye. "Brother, there is something seriously wrong with your wife!"

Unperturbed she asks, "Where's your sense of adventure Jack?"

"In the clouds." He answers simply and honestly.

"So, you prefer jet propulsion as opposed your own steam?" She teases, implying that maybe he's lazy.

He shrugs undaunted. "Gets me a lot higher without all the hard work and sweat."

"And without the sense of personal accomplishment." She fires back confidently. "I promise you, you conquer that rock just one time, make it to the top in time to watch the sunrise, you'll feel untouchable."

He's silent for several long seconds and Mac assumes that maybe he's giving due consideration to her words until he quietly speaks and proves her wrong.

"But I don't want to be untouchable." He grins scandalously."I like to be touched."

Mac turns to Harm struggling not to laugh and loses the battle.

"Don't look at me." He says joining in. "I can't help you. You walked right into that one Ninja Girl."

Laughing along with the others, it's Chloe who pulls the conversation back around to the appropriate topic. "I know this has nothing to do with me, but I'm curious. What's the whole egg harvesting process really going to be like for Mac? Is it dangerous? The online literature is a little vague."

Mac's laughter dries up as she answers. "I think the information available online is vague for a couple of reasons. The first is undoubtedly an attempt to protect the privacy of people who undergo the procedure."

Chloe nods attentively. That makes sense to me. The other reason?"

Mac smiles and shoots her doctor a mildly apologetic look. " Rebecca always does a good job of letting me know what I need to know, but have you ever noticed how all doctors seem to have an aversion to admitting, 'This is really going to hurt?'

Chloe nods and rolls her eyes. "I usually get the words,' Just a little pressure.' Translation, 'Grit your teeth and please try not to say anything vulgar or kick me when I do this to you!"

The doctor chuckles as Mac nods. "There are risks with any medical procedure. With this one, the risks are minimal… but, it's not going to be any fun at all. Actually, it's already no fun. But if caffeine withdrawal, and the hormone injections that will come later, don't get the best of me, I'll survive the procedure itself. An ultrasound image will be used to guide a large gauge syringe into an ovary. The process is similar to a spinal tap, the exceptions being of course, the injection site and what's harvested."

Harriet cringes and pales noticeably as she takes Mac's hand. "Sounds like pure agony!"

Mac nods but shrugs at the same time. "I have to do my part in this. I'm not going to complain. It can't possibly compare to labor."

"Harriet doesn't like needles. Obviously, she can tolerate them, but the bigger they get the more uncomfortable she gets." Bud takes his wife's free hand in both of his and pats it affectionately."

Looking squeamish, Harriet addresses the doctor. "Can you anesthetize her while you do this?"

Dr. Thayer shakes her head. "Unfortunately, we can't even offer her a local anesthetic at the injection site. Any anesthesia at all would taint the harvest; make it inviable. If she can manage to hold perfectly still once the needle is in place, it won't take more than 5 minutes. Afterward, if she wants, I can give her pain medicine."

"And then you'll need one of the two of us." Skates guesses.

"Not quite. If all goes according to schedule - we will do this sometime around New Year's - we'll obtain Harm's contribution the same day as the egg harvesting. It usually takes us at least a week or two to work a little medical magic and achieve fertilization. It's highly likely we'll have several failed attempts before success. It's usually a very delicate process getting ovum and sperm to behave naturally outside of their normal environment. They are often uncooperative. It may take some coaxing; call it the medical equivalent of ambience or setting the mood."

Keeter laughs openly; without shame. "These two don't need candlelight or Barry White on the radio Doc. They think the Arizona desert is sexy on the last day of August in 99° weather. Even sand, cave dwelling bats, and cactuses don't turn them off. Something tells me that you won't have any trouble getting their… stuff… to behave naturally. Just squirt it all into the same test tube and leave them alone for two whole minutes. That ought to do it! You'll have more tiny little Rabbs than bellies to put them in!"

Skates elbows him as Mac leans across Harriet's lap to peer into Bud's coffee cup. When she finds it empty, she takes it from him, stands, and hurls it at Keeter's head.

"Hey!" He objects loudly with a broad grin when the cup bounces off his forehead, I'm just sayin'… you two like each other… a lot!"

Laughing along with everyone else, Harm tugs on the hand still in his. When Mac glances down at him he whispers, "Sit down… and hope he speaks the truth." When she does sit, he lets go of her hand and drapes his arm back around her shoulder. "Buddy, I'll try to keep her from throwing anything else at you, but I can't guarantee success. You might want to behave over there. Either that or… learn to duck! I can promise you the next thing she throws won't be so light and friendly."

Shrugging, he dries up slightly. "Okay okay, so she does her part without any kind of pain reliever before hand; but what about the surrogate? I'm only a guy, but even I know labor and delivery ain't no Sunday picnic in the park."

Warming toward him once again Mac says, "Thank you. That's a good question. Harm and I are open to discussion on this matter with whichever of you does this. We can discuss it more in depth later, once a baby's on the way, but we'll do what we can to make you as comfortable as possible. We're not immediately opposed to epidurals. I'm not certain about planned caesareans. I am wholly against the idea of inducing labor for the sake of convenience; no matter how much easier it might make things for us in this situation. It's just not good for babies. Because she's dealt with all this before, I'd like to hear Harriet's thoughts on these matters."

The blonde smiles and slides forward in her seat a bit. "Mac already knows I agree with her about inducing labor. It's too easy to miscalculate due dates. Unless there's a medical reason to do so, it's not good for the baby, and I've never done it but, according to everything I've read, it often makes labor harder for the mother…"

She pauses to think about it and then chooses to correct her words to fit the situation… "For the one delivering. I think caesareans are the same. Given the choice between recovering from that or a vaginal birth… I don't think there's any contest. I have done it five times. There's nothing fun about it, but when it's possible, I believe natural childbirth is best for everybody involved. However, I fault no one for wanting an epidural. Bud and I seriously considered it before our first was born. I probably would have had one if he hadn't been in such a hurry; if the little stinker hadn't insisted on being born on the floor of the Admiral Chegwidden's office! As it was, I didn't get one. That proved to me that I could survive without one. I chose not to have one with each subsequent pregnancy because there are risks involved; deliver that epidural in the wrong place, get the injection off by just millimeters, and it is possible to paralyze a woman for life. I know doctors do hundreds of them every day around the world, but it still makes me nervous. Additionally, any drug that enters your bloodstream during labor also enters the child's. I just don't like the idea of babies being born stoned."

She giggles when laughter fills the room. "All of my doctors have tried to assure me that there is no lasting damage to the baby. I'm just more comfortable avoiding the possibility."

"But was there ever a point when you reconsidered that choice?" Skates inquires. "A point where you wanted to have that epidural regardless of your concerns."

"Oh sure! That moment came with all my deliveries; the point where I just didn't think I could go on. That's why I fault no woman for having them.

Let's see, A.J. was in a big rush to get here, so it wasn't an option. Of course…" She lowers her voice and smiles sadly and both Mac and Bud squeeze one of her hands gently. "Everything went wrong with our Sarah. Jimmy was our easy baby. I had the usual pregnancy complaints; nothing too horrible. No complications. A long labor, but still the easiest one I had. He was even born on his due date. Nicky was our stubborn baby. I'm pretty sure he's the one that held up the show. He and Jenny were born two weeks late, which is very unusual for twins. It's not uncommon for them to show up a little early. That boy just didn't want to come out. There were no scary complications with him. He was just happy where he was and did not want to leave. I'd have had an epidural for sure with him and Jenny if I hadn't missed the window of opportunity. You have to do it before labor progresses too far." She explains. "He took longer than all the others, and I was so tired. He finally came out, and I was trying to summon the strength for Jenny. The doctor took a good look at her; he couldn't see her at all before Nicky was out of the way, and that's when he told us she wasn't fully turned. Well, I was laying there in horror remembering everything that when wrong with her sister and the doctor picked that exact moment to get up, walk across the room, strip his gloves off, wash his hands thoroughly, put new gloves on, and come back. He took his time about it! Bud and I were traumatized! He looked again and declared, "I knew that would work! All she needed was a little beneficial neglect."

"Well, naturally I shrieked at him. 'What the hell are you talking about… Beneficial what!" Apparently he fully expected me to do this. It didn't bother him in the least. Obstetricians have been shrieked at since the beginning of time. You can hurl all manner of verbal abuse at them and they won't so much as blink. Mine actually smiled at me and informed us that girls are smarter than boys. As he explained it, 'She knew what she needed to do. She knew she needed to turn, she just couldn't do it with her slowpoke big brother in her way and that now that she had room she'd finished turning herself and she was perfectly fine. The contraction that finally brought her was beyond horrible; one of the worst I ever had, but thankfully she didn't agree with her brother. She didn't drag her heels. She wanted out. If I'd known how their delivery would go beforehand, I would have begged for a drug induced oblivion."

"So, every baby is different. You'll have to make the choice you feel is best for you. I'd support either one. My best advice? Try to make your choices early. Don't wait until you're in the delivery room. You won't be able to think clearly in that moment. Make sure you're comfortable with your doctor. If you're not, get a new one, and don't apologize for it."

Skates looks to the doctor for confirmation of all she's heard and the medical professional offers her a smile. "Harriet gives sound advice. I can't find fault with anything she said. I especially like her recommendation about making the decisions early; not waiting until you're in labor. It's typically young women, or women who are delivering for the first time who make that mistake. Once a baby is on the way, sit down with Harm and Mac and anyone else who will be in the delivery room and make a plan. Things may not go according to the plan you make, but I can promise you it will be considerably worse if you don't have a plan to begin with."

Skates nods and leans over to pick up Bud's empty coffee cup from the floor as the doctor asks "Anymore questions?" She waits, looking around until each one of them answers in some negative way; whether it's a shrug, a simple shake of the head, or an' I can't think of anything else right now.'

"Great! You can all pick up my card and any literature you want on the way out. Just ask the nurse; her name is Marisol. If you think of anything, please don't hesitate to call. Harriet, Bud, if all goes according to plan; I won't see you again until sometime after Christmas. Have a wonderful holiday. Beth, Jack, you're the backup plan. Chloe plans to make herself one of the most readily available baby sitters the world has ever known, and I'm certain that when the time comes she'll take lots of adorable pictures. Baby Rabb's not even on the way yet and already young cousins eagerly await his or her arrival. This is going to be one well looked after baby. Thank you all in advance for that. Harm, Sarah, I will see you both the Monday after Thanksgiving."

As they all rise to leave, collecting coffee cups and various jackets or handbags, Harm speaks up again. "Unless you have other plans, Mom and Frank want everybody at their house for dinner tonight. Laura will be there. She spent her morning with them at the local aquarium. I'm certain she will have lots of aquatic chatter to share."


	41. Entertaining Guests

**Chapter 41: Entertaining Guests**

* * *

**Author's note**: Annie, you are quite right. If Jack Keeter didn't exist, it would be necessary to invent him! I know that's a paraphrased quote from some literary mind, but at the moment I can't recall who said it or whom it was originally said about, so I'll give you credit alone for the charming thought.

Thanks also to Trevor, who called Keeter superb after reading chapter 40. Yes, the doctor was supposed to pick up on the relationship between Skates and Keeter. No, you are correct, no one told her about it. I'm pleased you enjoyed the chapter.

To the reader who was displeased with some of the writing in chapter 40 regarding what I can only assume is your place of residence, Bud Roberts was sharing a private laugh with a friend, poking fun at his high browed mother-in-law for being somewhat close minded. Neither he nor I were, as you assumed, making fun of the great state of Kentucky or its fine citizens.

* * *

La Jolla California

Burnett Residence

Shortly Before Dinner Time

Lightning flashes and in its illumination Skates watches his eyes come alive with pleasure as she and Keeter step through the Burnett's front door greeted by the aroma of baking bread and something else hearty and fragrant simmering on the stove. He carefully latches the door behind her before helping her out of her rain coat. He tends to his own rain gear and then, in spite of the fact that he was careful to wipe them on the mat before entering, he checks the soles of his boots one more time before leaving the foyer. Previous experience has taught him that he will catch hell from the lady of the house should he dare to track muddy rain water in with him. Inspection complete; he trots in long easy strides to the kitchen at the back of the house.

Once there, Skates greets each of the kitchen's occupants in turn. Bud, Frank, Chloe, Trish, and Harriett; the first three are stationed at the small informal dining table and amusing themselves with what looks to be pieces from a child's buildings set. The latter are busy with meal preparation; and it appears they've already found and settled into a comfortable working rhythm with one another.

Keeter's scarcely pays them any mind at first. Instead, he quickly washes his hands in the kitchen sink and then makes a beeline for the stove, peers over Trish's shoulder into a large stockpot where he finds vegetable stew and then immediately retrieves a bowl from a nearby cabinet. Without comment, he returns to her side and holds the bowl over the pot expectantly.

"Go sit down Keeter." She says, unmoved by the boyish grin she catches a glimpse of in her peripheral vision. "It needs another 15 minutes to be perfect."

His nose tells him she's wrong, so he wordlessly points into the empty bowl; pantomiming insistently as if he hasn't eaten for days.

She considers ignoring him but decides it isn't worth the energy it would consume. She swaps her wooden spoon for a ladle and half fills his bowl. "That's all you're getting until dinner so get out of my kitchen. Go sit down over there with Chloe and the men and don't cause any trouble. She gives him an affectionate shove.

Before sitting he snags a spoon form the silverware drawer, and then he dutifully takes his bowl and lowers himself into the empty chair that Chloe uses her foot to push away from the table for him. Without so much as glancing up, she says, "Sit here." as she attempts to construct something with plastic triangles, rods and small metallic spheres the size of pin balls. He observes quietly as he takes his first three spoonfuls of stew then he picks up one of the triangular pieces and examines it. The flat surface of each triangle has a round hole in the middle and all three corners have small magnetic disks imbedded in them. He attaches three balls to the points of one triangle before asking "What are these things?"

Frank answers, "They're called Magnetix. Trish bought them for Laura. So far, I think the adults have had more fun playing with them than her. Don't lay the balls out on the table if they're unattached. They roll everywhere. That's why they're in the bowl. If one rolls away and hides in a dark corner somewhere Laura could come along and trip over it. I don't want her getting hurt."

"Laura isn't the only reason for concern. Any one of us might trip over those things if they get underfoot." Trish says reasonably as she delivers a glass of iced tea to Keeter's place at the table.

"Speaking of Laura, where is she?"

"She's upstairs on one of her snooping adventures."

"She snoops?

"Usually only where she's allowed to. Once you tell her someplace is off limits, she'll stay out. Every time she comes over, she investigates Harm's old bedroom as if it's a treasure trove. He told her he didn't care if she went in there. Every time she does, she finds some old keepsake to be fascinated with."

"I don't recall there being that much in there that would entertain a little girl." Keeter squints thoughtfully.

"She's not exactly typical."

"Can't argue with that." Keeter chuckles over the rim of his glass. He glances at Bud's sphere shaped contraption and then at whatever Chloe is trying to construct. "What is that?"

Chloe groans as her design collapses in on itself. She bites her lower lip in frustration as she picks up the scattered pieces. "If I can ever get it to stand up a right, it might start to look like a double helix."

"What, like a DNA strand?"

"Yeah, but it keeps collapsing under its own weight."

He glances at the partially deconstructed form and is suddenly able to see the intent behind it. "Not enough support. You need a wider base, and some kind of internal support."

Chloe squints.

Bud stops his own project and eyes hers thoroughly. "It will help if you build it from the inside out, instead of the outside in."

The furrow in her brow deepens. "I know exactly what you mean. I'm just not sure I can get my brain to come at it from that angle… From the inside out I mean." She admits plainly; with only the faintest trace of insecurity. "I'll get confused. I can see the whole thing in my head, but it's hard to focus on the individual parts; especially if I try to reverse engineer it."

Bud shrugs. "That's okay. Lots of people have trouble with that. You're more about art than structural analysis. Draw a picture of it, if you can. Use the picture as a reference guide, and then build it."

"Now that I can do!" Chloe grins; getting up from the table to retrieve her backpack from a nearby corner.

As she settles in again with sketch pad and pencil in hand, Skates joins them at the table after the other ladies politely decline her offer to help with the meal. She gently nudges Keeter's thigh with her knee. "Scoot over."

He eases over; perching on half of his seat. "I'll share my chair woman, but you're not getting my stew." He declares feeling possessive of the bowl he moves along with him.

She rolls her eyes. "Did I ask for your stew? I can wait. Like everyone else; everyone else except for you, that is."

Trish quietly chuckles at the banter between the two of them and Harriett chops ingredients for a green salad as Laura's dog meanders slowly into the kitchen; turning to look back up the stairs to be certain her pal is close behind. When Laura makes it to the bottom step, she reaches for Candy's collar rather than for her walker; which is waiting at the landing for her, and leads the dog over to stand in front of Chloe.

"Hey Chloe, what'cha drawin'?"

"I'm drawing a picture of what I want to build with your magnets." Chloe holds up her sketch pad so the girl can see her handiwork, but she's quickly distracted by the large plush turtle Laura clutches between one arm and her small chest.

"Hey, you've got a new friend. Did you find that upstairs?"

Laura shakes her head and waits for Chloe to set her artwork aside, then plops her new turtle down on top of the sketch pad and climbs into her friend's lap before picking the toy up again. "This is Cedric. Grandpa Frank bought him for me at the aquarium. He's a giant leatherback. Did you know the real ones eat jellyfish?" Laura asks with obvious astonishment. "And they can get really old too; like 150 years old!"

Chloe can't help but chuckle at the girl's enthusiasm and she kisses the crown of the little child's head. "Nope, I didn't know that. Do you know how many stomachs an octopus has?"

"Yep; I do. They have three! That lady at the aquarium said so! At least she said Molly does, and she eats sharks two, but only little ones. Not big ones."

"Smart girl. Did you find anything fun upstairs?"

Laura nods her head enthusiastically as she notices Keeter for the first time. She says nothing to him. In place of a verbal greeting, she spins herself around in Chloe's lap and then places a small foot, clad in its ruby red sneaker, in his; but not before she uses the same foot to give him a gentle nudge.

In reply he winks at her and says "Hey runt! You find any aircraft parts or stolen street signs stashed up there in the closet?

She giggles. "No, but I found a really cool rock in a box under the bed."

"A really cool rock, huh?" He teases, "I thought little girls played with Barbie dolls."

"Not me! Not gonna either, unless I find a Barbie doll with combat boots and a camouflage Jeep."

Finishing his last bite of stew Keeter asks, "Do I detect a certain Marine's influence there?"

Laura simply flashes a bright smile in reply before she glances down into the bib pocket of her overalls and retrieves a small flat rock that has a bluish tint and is just big enough to fill her small palm. She hands it to Chloe for examination. "See. It's got writing on it."

"That's a carving; not exactly the same thing as writing."

"What's it mean?"

"You should ask your uncle Harm. I bet he'd like to tell you about this."

"Uncle Harm's not here. He went to get ice cream for dessert."

Keeter reaches over and gestures for the rock. Laura eyes him curiously and raises an eyebrow. "Will you give it back?" She asks with extreme seriousness.

He'd nods but she continues to eye him with uncertainty.

"He'll give it back Laura." Trish verifies, looking up as she pulls a loaf of crusty warm bread from the oven. He'll give it back, or he will not get any dessert."

Willing to trust her grandmother, Laura gently plops the rock into his outstretched hand.

He turns it over and runs his thumb over the carving as tactile sensation calls forth memory. "I remember this rock. I broke the rear window of Lisa Gilman's old beat up yellow Pinto with this rock. Boy, was your uncle mad at me"

"What's a pinto?"

Keeter squints at her in surprise.

"She's not even seven Keeter. Pintos rolled off the assembly line before she was even thought about; before her mother was even thought about."

Keeter nods at Frank's words. "A Pinto is a car. Lisa Gilman's was seriously banged up, but it still ran. Her dad bought the old junker from a scrap yard for $85.00 and put a new engine in it. She named it Old Yeller. We were all at Annapolis together, and Easter weekend we took it to the lake."

Laura snatches the rock from his hand and clutches it to her chest as if she's protecting it."You throw rocks at cars? Keeter! You're not supposed to throw rocks at cars!" She lowers her voice and whispers conspiratorially, "That's just bad!"

"I didn't do it on purpose, runt. It was in accident. We took the car out to the lake and I picked up the rock and threw it. I was trying to knock a hornet's nest down."

"Why'd you wanna do that? That's not very nice either. How would you like it if somebody knocked down your house?"

She eyes him sternly until he surrenders and says "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. It wasn't a smart thing to do. Are you happy now?"

Laura thinks about it for a long second and then nods. "Okay, so why was Uncle Harm mad at you?"

Keeter chuckles. "Because I broke his girlfriend's car window."

Laura raises an eyebrow and wrinkles her nose. Her next question causes Frank to throw back his head and laugh at the ceiling. "Uncle Harm had girlfriends?

"Oh boy, did he ever sweet girl."

Laughing along with her husband, Trish walks over and runs her fingers through the little girl's hair affectionately. "The parade of young girls through this house! I thought it would never end. The only person who had more girlfriends than your uncle was Keeter and, to this day, neither one of them will admit it, but I'm quite certain they shared a few of them; including Lisa Gilman!"

Laura giggles innocently. "At the same time, you mean?"

"I've never been brave enough to ask that! I'm not sure I want to know… But I wouldn't put it past them."

Keeter rolls his eyes and declines to comment. "Anyway, after they both got done yelling at me, Harm picked up a piece of flint and edged his initials into that rock. A couple of days later, he gave it to her as a prank birthday gift right before he told her he'd paid to have her window replaced. I think she almost hit him in the head with his rock."

"You guys are not funny!" Laura declares; shaking her head and giggling in spite of her words. She studies the rock quietly for a second and slightly misinterprets what she sees." H R two."

Keeter grins. "Not quite. The two is smaller and slightly raised because it's an exponent. It should be read H R squared, or H R to the second power because he and his dad shared the same initials."

Laura gives this bit of information several seconds worth of serious thought and plays with her new turtle while she does; bouncing Cedric in her lap. At length, she finally asks, "If Aunt Mac and Uncle Harm have a baby boy, is he going to be an H R with a little three?"

"We don't know yet. You'll have to ask them that Laura." Harriet offers her a smile. "Which would you prefer, sweetie? A girl or a boy?"

"A boy." Laura answers without hesitation. "Boys have cooler toys." She bobs her chin emphatically. "Will the baby be here soon?"

"Goodness no." Trish answers. "If it all goes well, the baby won't be here until next fall; some time before your next birthday… Not the one in two weeks; the one next year."

"Aw man! A whole year! Nobody told me that! I want the baby now; even if it is a girl! Can't you make them any faster?"

While all the adults are laughing, Chloe hugs the girl tight. " Sorry kiddo! That's how long it takes, and there's nothing anybody can do about it. Just think about it this way. After the baby gets here, you don't get to have Uncle Harm and Aunt Mac all to yourself anymore. You'll have to share. So enjoy being the only child while you can."

Laura frowns as a new thought occurs to her. "Where are they anyway? How long does it take to get ice cream? Are we going to eat soon? I'm hungry!"

She drops her uncle's rock back into the front pocket of her overalls as Trish declares. "Darling, you're always hungry! Come over here and take this silverware. Use your walker. You can help set the dining room table, and don't worry about your aunt and uncle. I'm certain they're fine. The rain's just coming down pretty hard. It may have slowed them down."

Keeter observes the storm through the kitchen window. "They're probably parked somewhere on the side of the road making out while they wait for it to let up. They'll show up 20 minutes from now with melted ice cream and wrinkled clothes."

Caught off-guard, he hunches forward in his chair slightly when Trish smacks him on the back of the head. She hands him a stack of plates and bowls. "Go help Laura set the dining room table. We'll bring in the food and drinks in just a minute."


	42. The Typical Family Dinner

**Chapter 42 The Typical Family Dinner**

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**Author's note**: You guys are awesome! I love getting feedback from y'all! You make my day. And, on that note, I must tell you that I will be very busy today. I just found out, not 5 minutes ago, that a relative I haven't seen in a very long while is in town. I'm not sure I'll get to my writing tonight, but the next chapter is coming,

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La Jolla California

Burnett Residence

Dinner Time

People coming and going between the Burnett's kitchen and dining room politely sidestep each other; most of them with quiet words and smiles, when they aren't calling out over their shoulders to one another because someone forgot something in one room or the other. Keeter and Laura are the only two trying to be loud and disruptive as they strive to outdo one another and, in doing so, they make minor nuisances of themselves for everyone else in the house. They pass each other once and she playfully bumps into him with her walker. He's laughing the instant before, and the next he's scowling, surprised that the small walking aid can cause so much pain when it catches a person at just the right angle, careening against the knee cap. On the next pass, before she can score any collision points, he grabs her by her overall's shoulder straps and hauls her into the air. Dangling midair, she squeals, somewhere between laughter and protest as he picks up the small ambulatory contraption, stows it in the pantry and closes the door on it. "Now let's see you run over my toes!" He laughs devilishly until he catches sight of Trish glaring at him.

She stops midway across the kitchen; heavy soup tureen balanced in both hands. "Jack Keeter, you will give her that walker back this instant! You started this nonsense. You got her all worked up, and now you want to take away the thing that provides her with stability and independence…" Trish has plenty more to say but stops short when worry and contrition immediately appear in his eyes. He hadn't meant to do what she said. He was only thinking about his bruised toes and knees; not about endangering or punishing the kid unfairly. Opening the pantry door, he starts to apologize, but Laura has other plans.

"I ran him over. On purpose. It's my fault."

"I don't care if you did. You're a little girl. He's supposed to be a grownup. He can find a more acceptable way to retaliate "

"Aw Grandma Trish, don't be mad at him… please! He wasn't trying to be mean; not really. He was just playing. Besides…" Laura makes up the rules of the game as she goes along and she decides it's time for a new rule. "He stole my walker, so now he has to carry me!" Still suspended in midair, she crosses her arms over her chest and bobs her chin once with enthusiasm. Wholly unconcerned that she might be at his mercy, or that this might not be the right time to push her luck, she shoots him a look of challenge as if daring him to argue with her.

Trish acquiesces grudgingly. "Okay, if it doesn't bother you darling, then I won't say anything else about it; except this…" She glares at Keeter once more "Don't do it again!"

She continues on her way until Frank catches her mid way and takes the heavy soup tureen from her. "I got this. I thought the bread was done already. Smells like it's still in the oven.

"I put another loaf in."

"One should be enough, don't you think?"

"Not with this brunch. Not if you want bread with your lunch tomorrow." She says over her shoulder as she returns to the kitchen. Once there, she stops short, surprised to find the rowdy playmates at rest at the kitchen table and playing with Magnetix as if all is well and they hadn't just been trying to annihilate one another.

"You two beat all I've ever seen!" She declares in mild astonishment as she picks up drinking glasses to take to the dining room.

Laura shrugs unconcerned and Keeter asks innocently, "What?"

Before Trish can comment the sound of someone approaching; running quickly across rain soaked pavement pulls her attention to the bay window behind the kitchen table and the backyard beyond. The three of them watch in utter fascination, and are soon joined by everyone else in the house as Mac and Harm dash, hand in hand and soaked to the skin, for the back door; both of them laughing like looms.

When the couple reaches the patio they have minimal shelter from the storm under the roof's eave and Harm pulls his wife back against him, and wraps his arms around her before she can go into the house. She tugs at his hands and points for the door but he whispers something in her ear as he kicks off his shoes. She nods and sheds her light weight jacket as he stoops to set a plastic grocery sack on the pavement and then peel off his wet socks.

Inside and shaking her head with equal parts humor and dismay, Trish never takes her eyes from the pair as she says quietly, "Frank quick, the washroom, bring towels, there are fresh ones in the dryer!" The rest of the house's occupants continue to watch in curious delight as Mac steps out of her shoes and opens the back door. She waits, still laughing, as Harm takes off his shirt and leaves it behind on the patio with the pile of wet things. He gathers the tail of his white undershirt in his hands and wrings it as best he can. He heads for the door and then retraces his few steps to pick up the nearly forgotten grocery sack.

By the time the French patio doors close behind them and they are safely inside and standing together on the narrow mat, Frank is there with several clean towels tossed over his shoulder. He hands one to Harm, who pats his face dry and then rubs his head as vigorously as he can with only one hand available, while Mac takes one for herself. She goes through much the same process as her husband and then she stops laughing long enough to sneeze several times in succession. Harriett grabs another towel from Frank's shoulder and wraps it around Mac's as much for warmth as for privacy; the Marine's thin dress is clinging to her like a second skin.

"Well, what on Earth?" The blonde demands trying to stifle a giggle, as Bud takes the plastic sack from Harm and quickly stows the soft, but not entirely melted, ice cream in the freezer.

"That's a very good question." Trish seconds.

Harm tries a sheepish grin, but can't quite pull it off with his blue eyes dancing merrily. "Sorry Mom. We came in the back door because we didn't want to track all this water across the rugs."

"Darling, in a downpour like this, I expect you to get a little wet coming from the car to the house, but you two are wet clean through! What happened?"

He starts to explain but doesn't get a single word out before Mac sneezes again. She shivers and he realizes that the house's cooler temperature, while not unreasonably low, is chilling her rapidly so he opts instead for, "Mom, it's kind of a long story… And Mac got it worse than me. She's a wet mess."

Instantly aware that Keeter will interpret the comment in a scandalously inappropriate fashion, Mac points her finger in his direction and, without even bothering to make eye contact she orders in a dangerously calm voice, "Not a word Jack, not one word!"

Momentarily stalled by her perfect timing and the ominous quality of her words, he's frozen, open-mouthed, until Trish clues in and adds, "Not if you value your life."

Laura giggles as she watches her playmate's mouth snap shut without so much as single syllable being uttered.

"Son, I'm not sure you're any less wet than she is but, if it's truly a long story, then put it on hold. It can wait until you two are dry." She steps over and wraps yet another towel around her daughter-in-law's shoulders. "With everything that's about to happen in the immediate future, the last thing Mac needs is to get sick. Upstairs now, both of you, go on, march!" She orders with stern but maternal affection. She gestures with her hands; shooing Harm ahead of her and then gently guiding Mac by the shoulders "Frank, darling bring in their wet things… And then everybody to the table. We'll be down shortly."

Several minutes later when Harm enters the dining room in dry jeans and a sweater, Skates pulls out a chair for him. He sits and looks around the table realizing they are all holding dinner. He flashes his grin. "You guys could've started without us. We wouldn't have minded."

"No, but your mother would have." Frank comments with a wide easy smile of certainty.

Harriet lays a hand gently against the side of the soup tureen in the center of the table. "Besides, it's still hot. There was no trouble in waiting."

Keeter jokes. "Speak for yourself! Laura and I are hungry." He winks at the girl sitting across the table from him. He chuckles "What, we're suppose so hold dinner because you two can't figure out how to come in out of the storm? I figured you were having fun, but it didn't occur to me that you might actually be playing in the rain."

Chloe laughs as Mac enters the room two steps ahead of Trish.. "He says this like he's the one person who didn't just sit at the kitchen table and eat half a bowl of stew."

Harm gets up and pulls out the empty chair next to his as he takes in his wife's attire. One of his mother's stylish black sweat suits, usually only worn when company isn't around, fits her a bit awkwardly. The bottoms are a little loose and the top is a bit snug across her chest, but at least she looks dry and comfortable. Before sitting, she folds one of her stocking feet beneath her and then smiles up at him; stealing a quick kiss.

Trish takes her own seat and then immediately pops back up again to return to the kitchen. When she reapprars moments later, she sets a steaming coffee mug on the table in front of Mac. "You may as well have your second cup of the day with dinner, instead of after dinner. It will help to warm you up."

Grateful, and in no mood to argue, Mac curls her slender fingers around the mug and uses it to warm her hands as she watches them settle in; passing food back and forth to one another and filling their plates and bowls. She smiles at Harriet, who tends to Laura's needs without having to be asked, and is also vaguely aware that Harm is seeing to her food as well as his own. When the bowl in front of her is full; the aroma making her mouth water, he whispers. "Eat!" and offers her that dazzling smile of his.

She barely gets two bites down before Laura demands sweetly, " Is somebody gonna tell us what happened, or not?"

Harm chuckles. "No good deed goes unpunished Sweetheart!"

She gives him an odd look, shrugs her shoulders and announces, "Uncle Harm, I don't know what that means."

Chloe explains, "He means that sometimes when you try to do something nice for someone else, it winds up costing you a lot more than you expected it to."

Mac offers to explain further. "We went to the corner store to get ice cream. I went in and left Harm in the Jeep. On my way out, I saw Harm get out of the Jeep and walk over to the gas pumps, trying to call a lady's attention to her very flat tire. There she was, filling her tank, completely oblivious to the tire on the opposite side of the vehicle. I have no idea at how she got to the gas pump without realizing that she was nearly riding on the rim, the tire was nearly shredded, but there she was, nonetheless. Harm called her attention to the tire and it actually took some coaxing to get her to walk around to the other side of the vehicle. She was standing in a very narrow dry spot under the awning while she was pumping gas and her biggest concern was that she didn't want to get her hair wet because she'd just been to the salon. When she finally realized the tire was indeed flat, she grabbed her cell phone from the front seat of the vehicle and when she couldn't get a signal, she looked completely lost - not panicked - lost. By the time I reached her vehicle, she was whining because she didn't know what to do if she couldn't call the auto club. Harm offered to change the tire, and she wasn't going to let him until she realized that I was with him, which is alright I guess. I can understand the instinct to protect oneself against a stranger, but after he offered to help she got kind of snide. The car was a late model Lincoln and when he couldn't find a tire iron with the spare he asked her to pop the hood. When he explained that sometimes Ford will stow the tire iron beneath the hood, she took offense. I bit my tongue when this woman exclaimed, "Young man! This isn't a Ford! It's a Lincoln!"

With his spoon halfway to his mouth, Frank chuckles, as does Bud, while Chloe looks mildly confused until Frank offers, "I take it one of you explained to her that Ford and Lincoln are made by the same people. They can stick whatever label they want on the car. They use the same parts to build the motors."

"Well, I was about to do just that. However, Harm never missed a step. He just smiled and said "Yes Ma'am that goes for Lincolns too. We finally got her tire changed, but not before we were both soaking wet. She drove away without so much as a 'thank you.' And I have to say, I'm not oblivious, I know there are women who don't know how to do these things, but this one was utterly clueless. My uncle Matt wouldn't even let me sit behind the wheel of my first car with the engine turned off until I knew how to change a tire, put gas in the tank, change the oil, and put fluid in the radiator. He said it wasn't safe for me to be driving if I didn't know these things. Don't women worry about these things?"

"Sadly darling many of them don't. No one's ever tried to teach them."

"Poor Harm went back into the store soaking wet and asked to exchange the ice cream I'd just bought. It would've been completely melted before we got home otherwise. Thankfully the store clerk was nicer than the woman with a flat tire. We didn't mean to take so long, how were things here?"

"Better than things were there." Skates says plainly. "Laura found an old rock with Harm's initials carved in it. Keeter begged for food before dinner like some starving orphan, then told a funny story about breaking some girl's car window with the same rock; probably more than 20 years ago. He made some of his usual colorful comments. Trish smacked him on the back of a head. Let's see… What else?"

"And I wanna know what you're gonna name the baby. Laura finishes for her while happily munching on a slice of crusty sourdough bread.

Mac smiles "Oh Laura, let's wait until there's a baby on the way before we start talking about that, okay?"

"Well, you must have some idea." Harriet coaxes.

"Are you going to name him after Uncle Harm?"

A tentative smile pulls at the corners of Mac's mouth. "I don't know." She looks at Harm. "That's one possibility."

"Well, did you have something else in mind?" He wants to know.

"I'm not sure anymore."

"Anymore?"

"I always just kind of assumed that if I ever had a little boy I would name him after Uncle Matt.

Harm nods. "I wasn't aware he'd fallen from grace… not in your eyes anyway. The Marine Corps maybe; but not yours."

Smiling, Mac lightly swats his arm. "He hasn't. However, if we name a little boy Matthew, I'm afraid someone is inevitably going to end up calling him Mattie. This family already has a Mattie. She's still a part of this family. Regardless of gender, one is special. Two is redundant. It just doesn't seem right. I don't want it to wind up being a painful reminder every time it happens."

Harm squeezes her hand affectionately, and everyone is quiet for a solemn moment until Bud tries to shift the mood. "What if she's a little girl? Then what?"

Mac offers up another tentative smile. "Then her middle name could be Grace, in honor of Mattie. It was her middle name and her mother's maiden name, she preferred to use it in place of Johnson." She turns to Harm once again. "What do you think? Would that be okay?"

Because there's nothing he can do to stop it, he tries to ignore the tear that catches him by surprise, and drapes an arm around her shoulders. "Yes." He says hoarsely working around the lump in his throat. "Not only is that okay, I think she'd like it. She'd pretend she didn't at first, but actually…" He laughs in spite of himself. "She'd like anything; as long as it wasn't Matilda!"

Trish's smile is bittersweet. "And what should her first name be?

A quiet chuckle burbles out of Mac. "I have no idea!"

"What about Mackenzie?" Chloe chimes in and Harm nods along until Mac exclaims, "God no!"

Harm squints comically at the unexpected outburst. "What's wrong with Mackenzie?"

"I don't like it for the same reason Mattie didn't like to use the name Johnson. I don't care who this baby is, I'm not saddling her or him with Joseph Mackenzie's last name… Not for a first, middle, or last name! All kids should have a name they have to live up to, not one they have to live down."

"Hey!" Harm says quietly as he nudges her gently. "Nobody here has your dad in mind. He may not have done much good for the name of Mackenzie, but you have."

The rigid set of her shoulders softens a bit, but she shakes her head stubbornly. "I don't care! No!"

Knowing it's best to change the subject, Harm says, "Okay. No. Next suggestion?"


	43. A Long Drive & a Roller Coaster Ride

Chapter 43: A Long Drive And A Roller Coaster Ride

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Author's note: Please notice, the date for the previous chapter was November 16th. Nearly a month has passed. I'm just calling attention to it in case anyone should be confused.

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San Diego California

December 10, 2007

Harm sits still, going nowhere, waiting for his favorite marine to answer the phone. When her voice comes through his car's speaker system she sounds distracted, busy but happy. "Hey Flyboy. Where are you? Are you stuck in traffic again?"

Before he answers her question, he asks one of his own as part of a little game that they've started playing with each other; randomly introducing baby names into daily conversations. He's only teasing though, because he already knows she'll veto the suggestion, "What about Maddox?"

"Maddox? Harmon Rabb, are you nuts? You've bumped your head again; haven't you? You're going to have to stop doing that, you know? I know you've got a hard head, but even your thick skull is only going to take so much abuse."

Having successfully gotten a rise out of her, he laughs easily as he takes his foot off the brake and crawls forward half of an inch.

The redhead in the Crown Vic in the lane next to him gives him an awkward smile; aware that he's happy about something, though she doesn't know what.

"Hey, it's better than Morpheus! A lot better!"

" Morpheus? People can't be serious! I see you've made it to the M's in that book of baby names. Morpheus really? That's really in the book? You have any idea what third graders would call our son?

"Yeah. Morph-man Rabb." He grins ear to ear.

She chuckles dryly. "Well, I'm glad you're having fun. But seriously Harm, where are you? Any chance you're going to be home in time today?"

"Not likely. Sorry. Even if I am, it's gonna be close. I'm stuck behind a bad wreck. I'll do the best I can."

Upon hearing this, her own concerns are momentarily set aside. "How bad?"

"Bad. I'm not close enough to see it yet, but I've seen more than 1/2 dozen patrol cars three ambulances, and a fire truck in the last few minutes, and LifeFlight touched down just before you picked up."

"Oh God! Okay, I won't complain anymore. Just get here safely." She says, her voice going soft with empathy for whoever's hurt and worry for him.

"Will do. Feed Laura if she's hungry. What am I saying? Of course she's hungry. Don't make her wait for me."

"K, love you."

"Always."

He disconnects the call thinking of his niece. For the last two weeks, she's been adamant she wants to name her cousin Jonah, after the biblical prophet who was swallowed by a whale or Lucy; for the 1967 well known Beatles hit, depending on whichever name is appropriate for the child that is still yet to even be conceived. Smiling, he shakes his head. He's pretty certain her knowledge of Beatles music comes courtesy of Frank, and equally certain that her knowledge of the story of Jonah comes from his mother but still, the stuff she comes up with never ceases to amaze and delight him. He also knows she'll change her mind at least three times before January; which is when their embryonic transplant is tentatively scheduled to happen. Before the kid is born, she'll likely change her mind an additional 50 times.

He can see her clearly in his mind's eye, standing on the banks of Lake Jennings; pink rod and reel in her hand on the birthday camping trip he promised, asking him with wide, excited eyes if there were whales in the lake, and could they please name the baby Jonah even if there were no whales in the lake. she'd also insisted on sleeping in her own new sleeping bag, an anticipated gift from her grandparents, until she woke up cold at sometime after 0300 and crawled between he and Mac in their joined sleeping bags to get warm. They'd all woken up before 0700 in a heap; the three of them tangled up together along with Laura's dog, at which point she declared she was hot from being smooshed between them and ready to catch more fish for breakfast.

Harm's position in traffic improves grudgingly; almost painfully as he crawls forward another two inches. Unable to tend to more pressing responsibilities in his current situation, he lets his mind continue to wander.

His parents are enjoying their new role immensely. Being grandparents suits them. In addition to her fishing pole and her sleeping bag, she'd also received two new outfits from them along with an even bigger set of Magnetix. The final gift deemed necessary because following dinner the day of their initial meeting with the doctor, while the adults were sitting and visiting around the dining table, Laura had quietly disappeared. They'd found her sitting at the kitchen table nearly finished constructing the double helix model represented in Chloe's drawing. Chloe had found time to finish the drawing before dinner, but not enough time to do the building. When the adults had expressed their surprise over her ability to assemble the complex design, the little girl had simply shrugged and announced, "I just built it the way I see it. It's right here… in Chloe's picture. It was almost easy. I just copied. I made them match; that's all."

Trish had questioned her. "Darling, I didn't think you liked the magnets? The grownups play with them more than you do."

Laura had shrugged. "No, I like them Grandma. They were just too easy at first. I got bored building circles, rectangles, and squares. Chloe's was harder. It was more fun."

They had all watched her finish her work in astonished silence. Hardly sooner than she had put the final piece in place, she took great delight in knocking the structure down. When the adults had finished protesting, she'd simply smiled at Chloe and asked, "Will you draw me something else hard to build?"

At a loss for what else to draw, Chloe had used her laptop to print a highly detailed image of the human skeleton off the Internet. "There! Build that, and find a way to make him stand up! That'll keep you busy for awhile."

A little over three weeks later, and Laura has managed to build several different segments of the skeleton. The only part giving her serious trouble is the skull. Additionally, she's yet to find a way to get the skeleton to remain upright, but she hasn't given up. The second, larger, set of Magnetix includes more complex pieces that offer a greater functionality than the first, and she's made some improvement since receiving the gift. For the first week, the various pieces were laid out in the middle of the Rabb's small dining table. When they realized Laura wasn't going to give up on the challenge any time soon, Mac had moved the work table she uses for her ichnites into Laura's bedroom and relocated the project.

Sometimes in the evenings, while Harm and Mac are working on the guest bedroom, or discussing baby related plans, or both at the same time, they can hear Laura in her bedroom. Sometimes she sings to herself as she works on her skeleton whom she has named Felix, other times, she exclaims in frustration, "Ugh! Stupid skeleton!" but she won't quit, and she rarely asks for help, and Harm just couldn't be prouder of her for it. Since she began the project, the only days she completely skipped working on it were Thanksgiving Day and the weekend they had gone camping.

A break comes in the traffic, the wreck up ahead must've been cleared at least to some degree because Harm is finally able to move several feet as opposed to a few inches.

Prior to the holiday, his mother had told him that they were expected for dinner, and that additionally they were expected to bring Skates and Keeter along. She wasn't taking no for an answer, and that was fine with him. It had been a long time since he had gotten to be home for Thanksgiving. The fact that he now had a small family of his own to celebrate with just made it that much sweeter. His previous two holiday seasons had been utterly dismal. The festivities of this year were so much more than just a welcome change. Before dessert was served, Frank had wanted to know how Felix's construction was coming along. Laura had sighed heavily and informed Frank that Felix was both stupid and stubborn, but at least now he had feet; even if he didn't know how to stand on them. She told Trish she didn't want talk about Felix. She wanted to talk about the baby, and she wanted to talk to Mr. Bud and Miss Harriett because they had already gone home and she missed them. So, that's precisely what they did. After everyone was full of turkey and dressing with all the usual side dishes, Mac dialed the Roberts' up via Face Time so everyone could touch base; do a little holiday visiting courtesy of modern technology.

The following Monday evening after both Harm and Mac had gotten home from their respective offices, Harriet had called again; for two reasons. The first being to check on Harm; he'd had more than a month to settle into his new post with SPECWAR and she wanted to know how it was going. He told her that things were fine and that he was finally starting to feel at home in his new command. After that, the conversation had turned, of course, to Baby Rabb, and he had to admit to Harriet that although they hadn't managed a getaway before the doctor's appointment as they had hoped, they had managed to spend a quiet weekend at home; just the two of them. He'd let Mac fill her and Bud in on the details about hormone therapy and the twice daily injections he had been coached on how to give her. Doing it that way meant they didn't have to hire a nurse or visit the doctor's office twice a day. He hadn't been entirely comfortable with it at first. In fact, initially the thought of giving Mac shots had frightened him. But the doctor and the nurses were skilled coaches. After two weeks, he was almost comfortable with it. However, presently he was not at all comfortable with the fact that he was about to be late administering the next dose. With the understanding that unforeseen events do arise, they were supposed to stick to a fairly rigid schedule, and if he didn't make it home soon this was going to be the second time this week they were late with her evening injection.

Harm sighs as traffic finally begins to move at a slow but steady pace. As much as he wants this, he can't wait for this particular phase to be over. The wide array of side effects to this treatment is taking its toll. To say that his wife is hormonal is a wild understatement. She's unhappy because she's bloated, puffy, and having hot flashes, which she says make her feel like her head is on fire. Additionally she's edgy, easily pleased, easily agitated, excited, depressed, angered, hyper and bored. In short, she's all over the map, and the 'no sex' thing is about to kill them both. He's not entirely sure they'll make it until New Year's. One moment she can't stand be touched; the next he can't keep her from touching him. He can't help but chuckle about this roller-coaster ride as he finally passes what remains of the mangled wreckage that was holding up traffic.

Moments later, with his exit in sight, he smiles and hits SEND on his phone twice to automatically re-dial the last outgoing call.

She greets him sounding playful rather than peeved, "You get lost?"

Thanking the stars above, he declares. "I finally got through. I cleared the accident site. I'll be home in less than five minutes."

"Don't you dare speed!" She lectures. "Your mom just walked in. She can do it if you can't get here in time."

"I'd rather she didn't have to."

"I know that Squid. But I'd rather the EMT's not have to scrape what remains of my husband's broken body off the pavement with a spatula. This is why we showed her what to do. So she could if you couldn't be here for any reason. You just come home safe." Mac somehow manages to demand it, and sound soft and weepy all at the same time.

"Hey Ninja Girl. I'm fine. Safe and sound."

"I know. I'm sorry. Stupid hormones! It's just you mentioned that accident. It had to be horrible if LifeFlight was there. I started thinking about Eddie…"

"Ahh… Well, try not to do that Jarhead." He says gently. "Go pet Laura's dog. I'm sure she'll let you borrow Candy for a few minutes. I'll see you soon."


	44. Checking up on Laura

**Chapter 44: Checking up on Laura**

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**Author's note**: I needed a brief reprieve from all the baby chatter, not to mention all the research the goes with it. So, in this chapter, I decided to deal with one of those sneaky little subplots that invariably make their way into every story, lest it should be neglected.

* * *

San Diego California

Friday, December 21, 2007

1812 Hours

So she won't appear to hover, or otherwise make a nuisance of herself; Mac begins preparing dinner earlier than it really needs to be done. This will at least keep her busy even if it won't do much to distract her. It will also give Harm a break from kitchen duty for a change. She tries not to stare anxiously at Laura's partially closed bedroom door. No matter how many times home visits happen, they still make her a little uncomfortable. As is allowed, an unscheduled visit is taking place.

Inside the bedroom, Pamela Jensen, Laura's Child Welfare Services caseworker perches lightly on the edge of the bed beside the girl who clutches a large stuffed green turtle that's as big as a queen size pillow and simultaneously rubs her dog's head. Jensen recognizes the latter act as a self soothing mechanism. She smiles at Laura and looks slowly around the room. It's taken on even more of Laura's personal flair since last she was here. The walls covered in butcher block paper with brightly colored drawings are not new; they're just perhaps a little brighter. The plush toy is new, and so is the placement of a large work table that is really much too big for the modestly sized room. However, it used to be located elsewhere within the house. The caseworker just can't quite remember where at the moment. Actually quite a lot of furniture seems to have been moved around recently, partly due to the fact that the house is under renovation and partly due to the fact that it's holiday time and the family chose to make room for a large live Christmas tree and various other decorations in their cozy living room. However she decides not to ask about these things right away. Instead she silently wishes that all the kids under her supervision were doing as well as Laura O'Hara seems to be doing. She asks, "Is that a new turtle?"

"Uh huh. He's Cedric. Grandpa Frank bought him for me at the aquarium."

"Grandpa Frank?" Jensen questions.

Laura's dark eyes sparkle happily as she nods. "Mr. Frank and Miss Trish are my grandparents now, 'cause I asked them. They said they wanted to be, so now they are."

"Do you like having grandparents?"

"Yes! They're awesome! "

The woman smiles brightly. "Because they buy you things?"

Laura squints thoughtfully before speaking. "I do like that part. It's fun, but I'd go to their house even if they didn't buy me nothin'."

"You would? How come?"

"'Cause they're nice to me. They talk to me and play with me. When we go to their house, they don't act like I'm not there. They take me places too."

"Like where?"

"Lots of places. We went to the aquarium. I played golf with Grandpa; real golf, not baby golf, and then we went to the clubhouse for lunch. We went to Magellan too; that's the place where Uncle Harm keeps his airplane. I like to go to Grandma Trish's gallery and look at the pretty paintings and pictures. Sometimes we go for pizza, but just at our regular pizza place; not at kid's party places. Grandpa Frank says no!"

"He does? Why does he say that?"

"He says sometimes bad people hang out in places like that; people that like to steal little kids. He says nobody's gonna get a chance to steal me. He's not taking me there; just in case."

"Do you miss going to places like that?"

"Na uh! Mom and Derek took me once; you know, before they went to jail. Some little kid stopped playing in the big box with all the balls and went to the bathroom without telling her mom and the mom thought she was lost. We all got locked in! They wouldn't let us leave until they found the kid. It's good the kid wasn't stolen, but it was no fun being locked in. It probably would've been, but Mom got mad and started yelling at everybody. So, I don't care if I don't get to go anymore. My favorite part is the pizza. I still get that part!" Laura bobs her chin happily."

"Do you ever get to see Mimi?"

"Yeah, Aunt Mac takes me to see her sometimes on the weekends. She doesn't like to come here unless Uncle Harm is gone, but aunt Mac says that her choice." Laura shrugs.

"Do you do anything fun together when you visit?"

"Sometimes, we make cookies… But mostly we just make popcorn and watch movies. Mimi doesn't like to go anywhere. "

"Well, that's okay. How about your mom, have you been to see her?"

Laura shakes her head vigorously. "I don't want to go! Aunt Mac and Uncle Harm say I don't have to if I don't want to! I don't wanna go to jail! Not even to visit her!"

Pamela nods. "Do they let you talk to her on the phone?"

Laura nods quietly and it's impossible for the women to miss the girl's abrupt sullen change of attitude.

"Don't you miss your mom, even a little bit?"

Laura nods hesitantly. "Sometimes… But then she calls and she's not nice. She gets mad because I don't wanna come see her. Then she either starts yelling, or she tries to be really super nice. I don't like either. I don't like to be yelled at, and the super nice part is fake. It's a lie."

"Okay, I won't ask you any more questions about Mom. Let's talk about something else. I like your new bed." She refers to the twin size sleigh bed with its polished oak finish and its snowy-white comforter embroidered with neon colored butterflies. The bottom half of the bed is covered with an equally vibrant reversible blanket. One side appears to be neon pink fleece while the other side is almost canvas like and lime green. Its purpose, no doubt, is to keep Candy's fur and nails from damaging the delicate comforter.

Laura smiles brightly. "I still miss the big bed a little bit. It had more room for me and Candy, but now I have more room to play, and this one has another bed underneath." Laura points as she talks. "You pull on those things that look like drawer handles down there and another bed comes out. Aunt Mac says it's called a trundle bed. Now Liam has his own bed if he spends the night, and in the daytime we push it underneath and then we have room to play games in that spot."

"You also have some room for this big table now. It looks like you're building a couple of things over here." She gets up and walks to the table. "You want to tell me about these?

Laura eases off the bed and makes her way slowly across the room without her walker, but Candy is at her side and she doesn't seem to have any serious trouble with the short distance. When she reaches the table she explains, "These are my magnets."

Pamela Jensen stands at the end of the table nearest Laura and studies two large three dimensional pentagon shapes constructed with small plastic rods that seem to be held together with silver balls at the joints. Suspended inside each five sided structure is a smaller three dimensional diamond shape that balances, without any apparent support, on one of its rounded corners One of these contraptions rests directly on the table top while the other is built on top of a mirror. Perplexed, the adult stares at Laura. "What are these things, and how do the little ones just balance there like that."

Laura giggles at her confusion. "The plastic parts have magnets in both the ends. That's why the balls hold them together. Uncle Harm helped me build these; they're spinning rotors. The magnets in the bigger one, pull on the magnets in the little one even though they aren't touching. That's why the little ones don't fall down. They will sit there all by themselves; unless you bump the table really hard."

"You said they spin?" The woman cocks her head sideways.

"Yeah, but they won't spin forever because of something called friction. You have to make them start spinning."

Fascinated, she squints. "My hand won't fit inside to reach the rotor. Will yours."

"Yeah, my hand is little enough, but you have to be super duper careful or you'll knock it down. There's a better way." Laura picks up an ordinary drinking straw from the center of the table, carefully sticks one end of it inside the larger outer structure, and gently blows; setting the internal diamond spinning.

Pamela Jensen laughs with delight. "That's pretty cool! Why is this one built on top of a mirror?"

"It's an experiment. Uncle Harm says when one thing moves against another thing it creates friction. That's what makes the rotor stop spinning after a little while. He says it would spin forever in something called a vacuum because there's no friction there."

She giggles and shakes her head vigorously. He says we can't turn my bedroom into a vacuum, but glass makes less friction than wood. So, the one on top of the mirror spins longer than the one on top of the desk. We timed it with a stopwatch. The one on top of the desk only spins for about four minutes and eighteen seconds. The one on top of the mirror spins for longer than ten minutes."

"Laura, this is really amazing."

Laura smiles, but shrugs as if she's had time to get use to this concept.

"I mean it. It's impressive. Most kids twice your age don't understand this stuff."

Laura shrugs again. "I didn't either until Saturday." She moves to the other end of the table and gestures toward her skeleton. "I've been trying to build Felix forever, but I couldn't figure out how to get him to stand up. I wanted to do it all by myself, but I got really mad the last time I dropped him. He's almost all together, and I broke him again! He's been broken lots of times."

She rolls her eyes; exasperated with herself. "I got tired of putting him back together, so I asked Uncle Harm to help me. I thought he'd just fix it. Instead, he showed me how to build the rotors. I told him, Uncle Harm, that's really cool, but it doesn't fix Felix! He said, 'You did this much all by yourself. It'd be a shame to let somebody else finish it now. Instead of fixing Felix, I'm showing you how to fix Felix so you can do it yourself.' I told him I didn't get it, but he just patted me on the head and said, 'If you think about it, you'll figure it out. I know you will.' So, I stared at Felix for a really long time… Until my head hurt." She blows out a puff of air; causing her bangs to flutter slightly. "Finally, I figured it out. That's why Felix is standing under a bridge!"

The caseworker nods. "All the magnets in the bridge help hold Felix up."

"Yep!"

"You did it! I bet that feels pretty good!"

The little girl nods. "I was in here by myself. I screamed, I get it! I could hear Uncle Harm laughing, all the way from his bedroom. He yelled back, 'I knew you would!"

The woman giggles playfully. "Far as I can tell, you've only got one tiny little problem."

Laura giggles too. "Yeah, I know. He's headless!" She points to a rather misshapen piece of construction that lies at Felix's boney magnetic feet. "I'm still working on that part. It's kinda hard to build a head with all straight pieces. It doesn't have to be square exactly, but I don't think I can make it exactly the way it's supposed to look." She points to the picture taped to the wall behind her table. "Even though it won't be square, it's not gonna be shaped like a head either; not exactly. I can make it round, like a ball, but heads aren't shaped like balls. I think I have to put more magnets in the bridge too, because so far his head is too heavy for his backbone. It keeps falling off. That's what happened to this one!"

The woman chuckles. "Felix keeps losing his head. He should get together with Ichabod Crane."

Laura squints and purses her lips. "I don't know who that is."

"Ask your uncle. Maybe, if it won't scare you, he'll tell you about the Legend of Sleepy Hollow."

Laura nods eagerly. "Okay, I will. He'll be home soon."

Needing to wrap things up, Pamela Jensen changes the subject once more. "Laura, your aunt tells me that she and your uncle are trying to have a baby. If that happens, are you going to be okay with it?"

With glowing eyes, the child nods vigorously. "But I wish it would happen faster! If the doctor can do a science experiment and put the baby in Miss Harriet's tummy, then I think they should be able to make it grow faster. But Aunt Mac says it doesn't work that way." She sighs dramatically. "I guess I'll just have to wait."

"I bet time will go by a lot faster than you think it will; especially if you keep concentrating on projects like these here on your table."

Laura nods. "I got lots of other stuff to do too. Aunt Mac took me to the library and got me a library card. I got a whole stack of books and when I'm finished with those, I can take them back and get more!" She exclaims, as if no one's ever taken her to a library before and it's some new and magical place.

Chuckling, Pamela Jensen steps toward the bedroom door. "Laura, I declare you to be in excellent hands. I probably won't see you again until after New Year's, so you have a very merry Christmas. I'm going to step out and have a quick word with your aunt, but don't stay cooped up in here too long. Dinner is really starting to smell good out there."

* * *

Author's Note: If you'd like an actual demonstration of the spinning rotors mentioned in this chapter, visit youtube and type Magnetix in as your search perimeter. that one and several other videos that may leave you in awe are available.


	45. Christmas Eve

**Chapter 45: Christmas Eve**

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**Author's note**: I'll do my best to make the following chapter an upbeat one. However, if I may have a moment, this has nothing to do with our story, but it's been on my mind so I'm sharing. Yesterday was the 29th anniversary of the Challenger space shuttle explosion. I was 12 years old, sitting in Mrs. Skinner's classroom watching it on the television. I remember kids crying, screaming, asking to go home, one kid even threw up. I remember watching in silence among all their chaos; my body numb while my mind was racing, arguing with itself, screaming surely they must have gotten out and knowing at the same time that it just wasn't possible for them to have done so. I can't tell you what I had for breakfast three days ago, but I can still tell you about that moment in horrific detail. I can tell you that, because of that event, I refused to watch the Tom Hanks movie based on the Apollo 13 mission for a number of years. It's so odd the things that shape our lives; leaving behind their indelible fingerprints. God bless and keep the explorers of this world and may he comfort the hearts and minds of the loved ones who still belong to those we have lost.

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Monday, December 24, 2007

Burnett residence

Early evening

Stirring slowly, Mac stares into the copper bottomed saucepan and absent- mindedly lists ingredients out loud. "Broth from the chicken, celery, onion, a tiny bit of bell pepper, sage, and diced chicken with boiled egg and pinch of salt and pepper; am I missing anything?"

Trish steps close and peers over her shoulder. "Nope, that's everything. And it's just about the right consistency too. Give it another 30 seconds, then put it in a covered Tupperware bowl and move it to the fridge. Giblet gravy is one of those things that's always better the next day. I always make mine the day before, gives all those different flavors time to mix and mingle; romance each other. Dressing's already in the oven. We'll warm everything as need be tomorrow. The only part left is the turkey; Frank's doing it tomorrow." She pauses long enough to eye Mac with concern. "Are you okay darling? You look tired… if you'll forgive me for saying so."

"No harm done Trish." Mac waves the comment aside. "I look tired because I am tired. Between work, renovations on the house, Laura's therapy appointments, the Department of Child Welfare dropping in for a surprise visit, and the stupid hormones… No need to worry though, another ten days and I might be done with those. At the very least, I'll get a break. Anyway, all I really need is a good night's sleep. Today was just more trying than usual."

"No work today, right?

Mac shakes her head while she stores the gravy just as she was instructed. "Um um, no. That's why I was finally able to go see my mother and drop in for a regrettable visit with my sister. She was belligerent and rude. I should've known better than to try the deal with both her and Mom in one day. They wear me out. I'm glad Laura still doesn't want to go visit her. Today would have upset Laura badly if she had been there."

"So, did Laura have fun visiting your mother?"

Mac nods with a bit of uncertainty." I think so. We helped Mom put up her little Christmas tree, but Laura was a little glum after Mon turned down your invitation for dinner tomorrow. I think her self-imposed isolation worries Laura. I think even at her young age, she understands on some level that it's not quite normal."

"That's too bad; for Laura and your mom. You really think she's that uncomfortable around men after all this time? She really doesn't trust any of them?"

Mac shrugs and wipes her hands on a nearby dish towel. "I think she's lonely but afraid that she can't tell the bad ones from the good ones. She has to know there are good ones. My grandfather wasn't an abuser. So, she didn't grow up with it. I think it's herself she doesn't trust. She picked Joe and didn't have the courage to leave until well after she should have. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knows that. At least I think she does. Trouble is, she's shifted from blaming herself for the abuse, to blaming herself for not leaving sooner; and I'll admit, I haven't exactly helped her in that department. That, coupled with the fact that she's been alone for so long, even if by her own choice, and the thought of being in a houseful of people she barely knows makes her very uncomfortable; regardless of their gender. She won't come, but if it's okay, tomorrow when we leave, I want to take her a plate of food."

"Of course, of course, there will be more than enough left over, even with this bunch. Take her two plates. Did you tell her about the baby plans?"

"I did." Mac says flatly.

"Uh oh, didn't go well?"

Mac shrugs again; turning and resting her hips against the kitchen counter as she talks. "Better than I thought it would. She wasn't openly opposed; she just seemed…" The Marine pauses to choose her words. "Detached… apathetic."

Trish shoots Mac an apologetic look. "I know she and I have had wildly different experiences in life. Still, it's impossible for me to imagine anyone being apathetic about the birth of their grandchild."

"She seemed that way. Doesn't mean she was. I think I'm beginning to figure her out, it's her armor. Or at least she thinks it is. Pretend like you don't care and maybe it'll hurt less if you don't get what you want. It's an ugly habit that I'm vaguely familiar with. Don't get me wrong, she still makes me angry. She probably always will, but lately; more than anything else, she just makes me tired. I use to leave her and feel like punching holes in walls, or setting something on fire. Now I leave, and usually, all I want is a nap."

Trish nods with sympathy. "It's hard caring for someone who doesn't care for themselves."

Mac laughs bitterly. "Yes, but how is it that two people who are so self absorbed can care so little about themselves? Years ago she told me that she'd never been much good to anybody; including herself. I remember the comment because it pissed me off. She wanted my sympathy, or at least my understanding. Back then I just didn't have any to give. I was too angry. Seems to me both of my parents had a warped sense of things. Joe was dying and he had that priest call me because he wanted to see me. She got the same call and had no desire to see him, but showed up anyway because she wanted to see me too. What for? So she could leave me all over again? And why? Because I made her uncomfortable? I'm glad I went, but I can't help but wonder if it ever seriously occurred to either of them that I had ample reason not to want to see either of them. I know she said she worried about it, but worrying about something, and genuinely considering another person's feelings isn't quite the same thing."

Mac shakes her head and blows out a defeated puff of air when she suddenly becomes aware of her own words. Disgusted with herself for falling back into an old trap she murmurs, "One day I'm going to stop asking myself these kinds of questions, because I don't think there's ever going to be an answer that will satisfy me." She stomps her foot lightly and shakes her head as if trying to shake her mind free if it's thoughts. The smile she attends is a bit brittle around the edges, but it is a smile.

"But who cares anyway, I got more important things to focus on."

Choosing to do just that; she says, "Trish you should have seen Laura's face when she came home from school with her pre-holiday progress report. Forget about plugging in the Christmas tree; didn't need to! Her smile lit up the whole house; A's, B's, and one very high C! At the end of the last school year, according to her records, her highest grade was a C. Harm and I make her do her homework at the kitchen table, where we can watch her, before she's allowed to play in the evenings. That accounts for most of the difference. My guess is no one's ever made her do that before. What I can't understand is why. It's not difficult. She's a good kid. She rarely gives us any trouble when it comes to doing her homework. Tell her what's expected; and she'll rise above and beyond.

"My experience is, unless there's a problem preventing it, that's usually true. Without a problem standing in their way, you get out of most kids what you expect from them. Expect nothing from them, and nothing is exactly what you'll get. Expect improvement, and let them know about it, and it will usually happen. Most kids like pleasing people; especially those they love."

"Harm and I are thrilled. Neither of us complained about that C. We didn't have the heart to. It's obvious she's trying, but I think she's caught some sort of fever now. The C was in Social Studies and it hasn't skipped my attention that now any time she has homework, she does the social studies first. It used to be the last to get done."

Trish chuckles as she wipes down the kitchen countertops. "You don't know then?"

Unable to miss the older woman's enthusiasm, Mac's eyes go wide and she inquires, "Know what?"

"You're not wrong. She was happy about the grades. She was still happy about them two days later. Remember, I took her to therapy last Wednesday and then she came over here for dinner? She told Frank and I all about it. He asked her how school was going and she lit up brighter than a runway. Frank made sure to hug her at least three times before he made a deal with her. He told her that if she could manage to keep all the rest of her grades up and get a B in Social Studies on her next progress report, he'd wait until a day when she was out of school for teacher in-service and take her to his office, and then out for ice cream or pizza. He told her that if she managed to get an A he'd take her to the local Chrysler plant to let her watch them assemble a car."

Mac giggles with delight. "No wonder! But, why didn't she say anything? Why didn't she tell us?"

"If I had to guess, I'd say that's probably because she half expects Frank to pull the rug out from under her. When he told her she said,' No way! Really! You mean it? No, you're just joking, right? When he shook his head and told her he wasn't joking and then promised he'd keep his word she asked, "Do they really use crash test dummies, or does TV just made that up? He assured her that they do, in fact, use crash test dummies. Then he asked her if she wanted to watch a crash test. She got very still, and very serious the way she does, and she informed him "Don't tease me Grandpa. If you're teasing me, I'll cry!"

Trish pauses, laughing her own tale along with Mac. "She has no idea, Frank is such an old softy, he'd volunteer to feed himself to a pride of hungry lions before he'd intentionally do anything to make her cry."

"Oh, she's going to have a blast. Trust me, she will get that A! Tell Frank he'd better be ready! I went to check on her yesterday and I found her curled up with Candy on her bed reading the next chapter in her Social Studies book out loud to the dog. She's out of school for Christmas break! I tried to talk her into putting the book down; she was obstinate about it! At the rate she's going, she'll finish the book two months before the class ends. You know what she's like. She's got a mind like a steel trap! Occasionally, it may take her a while to catch on to something but once it goes in, it doesn't come out, it's there forever."

"Retaining things has never been a problem for her; that's for sure!" Trish washes her hands in the kitchen sink and begins pulling fresh ingredients from the refrigerator and pantry.

Mac raises a curious eyebrow. "I thought we were done until tomorrow. What's all this?"

"Oh, we're done with meal preparations for the day. Now it's time to worry about dessert. After that, Frank wants to build a gingerbread train with Laura."

Mac squints as if she's afraid she didn't quite hear correctly. "A gingerbread train?"

"Yes, we did a gingerbread haunted house for Halloween. He wanted something different for Christmas. However, before we get to that, I'll teach you how to make Harm's favorite pecan pie."

Mac smiles and steps a little closer to the counter where Trish is setting out a freshly washed mixing bowl. "In spite of all his healthy eating, he does have a sweet tooth. Not that mine isn't ten times bigger than his; but I noticed he had a preference for pecan pie years ago. I bought him one once. I think he may have eaten two bites before he declared it to be vile in comparison to yours."

"He's just spoiled! When he was a boy, he'd beg for a piece of pecan pie, eat half the slice, and then complain that it was too sweet to finish. So, his grandmother altered her recipe. She started making it with light Karro syrup instead of dark. Additionally, she cut the sugar by 1/4 cup. He liked it so much, that I kept doing it. Now, he's just a food snob. He won't eat pecan pie made by anyone else."

As Trish begins to mix the ingredients together with Mac watching closely, Laura arrives from the living room with her furry companion at her side, slowly climbs onto a kitchen bar stool and announces plainly. "It smells really good in here! I know this is all for tomorrow, but what's for dinner tonight? I'm hungry!"

"Well, of course you are darling! If you weren't hungry it would throw the natural order of the entire cosmos out of balance."

Laura rolls her eyes but smiles brightly at her grandmother. "Does that mean you're gonna feed me?"

In reply, Trish stops what she's doing momentarily, steps to the refrigerator and removes the three twenty dollar bills held to the front of the door with an L shaped magnet. "Go give this money to your grandfather. He's going to pick up Chinese for us tonight. He already knows what to get."

Laura's dark eyes light up as she carefully abandons her bar stool, and then reaches up for the money. "Can I go with him?"

"That's between you and him."

Laura bobs her chin. "He'll say yes!" She drops the money in the basket on the front of her walker and she's off like a shot with Candy trotting close at her heels .


	46. Laura's Christmas Train

**Chapter 46: Laura's Christmas Train**

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**Author's note**: Annie, being aware that your first language is French, when you asked me if Harm's fondness for pecan pie was a projection of my own 'greed', I just assumed that it was a glitch with whichever translator you use and I substituted the word 'desire 'in its place. The answer is; I wasn't even aware of this when I wrote it, but yes, you are quite correct! I simply won't touch pecan pie unless Mama made it! (Not to mention several other foods.) She's simply the only person I've ever found who can make them right. And yes, she tells me all the time that I am a spoiled rotten food snob. But hey, we like what we like. I am also aware that many other people feel the same way about their favorite dishes. It never ceases to amaze me how bits and pieces of myself find their way into my work without any conscious effort on my part.

I had my youngest niece with me today for awhile, after reading the last few chapters to her; she insisted that I add this one. Of course, I obliged her. Perhaps it would read better if it were added to the previous chapter, but I'll fix that once the story is complete.

In other news, I'm so excited! I just bought a wireless headset and adapter to go along with my voice recognition software for my computer. Most of you won't care about this, but some of you may understand how much money I've spent over the years replacing headsets, headphones, and microphones because the cord is always too long and no matter how mindful of it I try to be, it either gets tangled up in my wheels, or caught up on my dog's wagging tail which leads to destruction. It cost me a nice bit of money, but I've been saving for a while. It arrived late today, and needs to be charged before use is possible. I can't wait to see if it works! Hopefully it will, and hopefully this means no more obliterating headsets. I'm also hopeful that a headset of this value will come with a better quality microphone which will therefore lead to fewer errors in my work. Wish me luck!

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Monday, December 24, 2007

Burnett Residence

Evening

"We're in here… in the dining room." Mac calls out happily in response to Harm's inquiry from the foyer.

Seconds later he stands in the archway of his mother's dining room and flashes his smile apologetically. "Sorry I'm late."

"You're not. We just sat down, not two seconds ago."

"Okay good. I'm going to go wash up." Mac sees intent in his warm gaze before he can speak his next words. "Can I talk to you a second." He tips his head in the general direction of the kitchen.

She smiles curiously. "Okay sure."

She leaves her seat eagerly and when she is near enough, he takes her hand and steals a light kiss before catching Trish's eye. "Thanks Mom!"

"For what darling?"

Gently tugging on her hand, he leads Mac into the kitchen as he calls over his shoulder. "I smell pie!"

Seconds later, as he lathers his hands with dish soap at the kitchen sink, he realizes that Mac is chuckling softly. She stands beside him with her back to the counter; her eyes sparkling with mirth.

"What's so funny Jarhead?"

Mac momentarily glances at the oven before turning her eyes back to his. "You are. You've got a nose like a bloodhound."

He raises an eyebrow. "You're not gonna stand there and tell me you don't smell that?"

She shakes her head. "Everybody in the house can smell that. But I wouldn't have known specifically that it was pie if I hadn't seen it go into the oven."

He shrugs genially. "That's just because you don't cook much."

She waits for him to dry his hands on the dish towel folded neatly beside the sink and then slides herself into the narrow space between his body and the counter. She winds her arms around his neck and helps herself to another kiss… one more satisfying than its predecessor.

When they part, he finds her squinting speculatively. "What'd you wanna talk to me about Sailor?"

"Well, it can wait until after dinner, but I need your help distracting Laura for a bit."

"Not gonna be a problem…" She breathes quietly while she keeps him close and idly plays with the topmost button in use on his shirt. "As long as you don't come through the kitchen when you sneak those last minute Christmas gifts you bought today into the house. After dinner, she and Frank are supposed to build a gingerbread train."

"A train huh?"

"Yeah, a train." Her smile is sweet and full of quiet sensuality; both her eyes and her warm body holding an entirely different conversation with his than the one they're having verbally.

He smiles; held captive in the moment until something occurs to him. "How exactly do you know I did last minute Christmas shopping?"

Her eyes tell of laughter she doesn't otherwise express. "More than 12 years of experience; that's how. You said you were only going to swing by the office. You have been gone for almost three hours. It's Christmas Eve, not hard to figure out where you've been Flyboy; not hard at all."

He shrugs; his blue eyes shimmering with desire, but before she can kiss him again, he gently disentangles himself, takes her hand, and leads her back to the dining room.

Their dinner is a comfortable one; filled with easy conversation and Laura's usual happy chatter. Afterward, while the little girl's attention is on Frank and the small train set he is constructing with gingerbread and icing, Harm and Mac slip quietly out of the house and back in again undetected by all except for Trish who's bright eyes sparkle merrily with secret understanding of what the couple is up to. Neither of them had shared their plans, but when she saw them slip quietly out of the kitchen hand in hand and seconds later heard the front door close softly behind them only to hear them return after a short absence and visit the guest bedroom upstairs briefly before joining the fun in the kitchen once more, she didn't need to ask what they were up to. She warmly recalls making a few such trips herself… not all that many years ago… she thinks happily.

Once they have returned to the festivities, Harm pours himself and his wife a cup of hot cocoa and eyes the assortment of pies cooling on racks on one section of the counter.

" Mom, you made more than one pecan. Can I cut one?"

Trish's laughter is musical. "I made more than one on purpose Son. I knew if I only made one it would be gone before tomorrow; especially with you in residence overnight. However, they're still a bit warm Harm. They haven't had time to set completely. If you cut into one now it's going to be overly gooey; soft and runny."

She eyes him pointedly but then surrenders; chuckling at the light in his eyes. Without further objection, she hands him the pie server from a nearby drawer.

He helps himself to a large slice of pie and a fork then takes up a post leaning comfortably against the room's door frame and crossing his feet at the ankles. From there, he offers Mac a bite when she pokes him playfully in the side and smiles expectantly. Together they observe the unadorned and partially constructed train waiting atop the breakfast bar for Laura's special attention.

Easily convinced that she should give the icing a few minutes to set so that the train will hold together better while she decorates it, she uses her uncle's tablet in search of images of old steam driven engines with a little help from her grandmother while her grandfather tries, without much success, to cut pieces of square gingerbread in such a way as to build the smokestack for the miniature locomotive.

After looking at several images and giving it quite a lot of serious contemplation, Laura takes what's meant to be decorative candy from several different bags and begins playing with it. She arranges caramels, chocolate kisses, candy canes, gum drops, miniature peanut butter cups and Christmas colored M &amp; M's in various different patterns while referring to the electronic images she selected as her guides. When the canine at her feet becomes curious about her activities and tries to rise on her hind legs and put her forepaws atop the bar for a better view of things, Laura declares quietly but firmly, "Off! Bad Candy!"

The somber eyed Labrador sits immediately. Her sweet face mournful, she quietly scoots as close to the girl as she can and gently nuzzles a hand, trying to make amends. She can't quite rest her furry head in Laura's lap given the height of the bar stool and Laura deliberately ignores her for a few long seconds before she finally turns her attention to the dog. "No." She pats the dog's head affectionately, but remains adamant. "Don't you give me your sad puppy face! You know you're not supposed to put your feet on the counter. Grandma will lock you outside. It's more fun in here, so you be good, okay? Down!"

Candy's lays down; her belly flat against the floor and looks up at Laura expectantly with her tail swishing side to side hopefully.

"You stay. Candy stays."

Trish eyes the dog with sympathy. "You're right Laura, I don't want her paws on my kitchen counters, but I don't think she's trying to misbehave. She just wants in on the fun too." Trish leaves the girl's side momentarily and retrieves a small gift wrapped package from the top of the refrigerator. When she places it in front of the girl, Laura looks at her with uncertainty. "Grandpa said I could open one present tonight. Not yet; after we finish."

Trish runs her fingers through the girl's hair affectionately. "This one's not yours. It's one of Candy's. We had to put it on top of the refrigerator, because when you went with Grandpa Frank to get dinner it was under the tree. Without you here to keep an eye on her, she kept retrieving it and running circles around the Christmas tree with it in her mouth. I think she knows it's hers. She can probably smell it. I think you can open one for her tonight too."

Laura eyes the adults with equal parts uncertainty and wonder. "Candy gets presents too?"

"Well of course she does." Mac assures from her place at Harm's side. "She's part of this family too."

For a moment, Laura is confused. She doesn't know whether to laugh or cry and it's evident when she says, "Mom never bought presents for Candy. She says Candy's just a dumb old dog."

Harm hands the saucer containing his pie to his wife. "Don't eat it all!" He warns with a teasing smile as he steps forward and wraps his arms tenderly around the girl from behind. In turn, she tips her head backwards and smiles up at him.

"Sweetheart she's a lot more than just a dog. She's your helper and your friend. She's not old, and she certainly isn't dumb. We appreciate the job she does for you, and we love her. She deserves presents too." He smiles at the dog and she starts to get up but then looks to Laura and chooses to stay down as directed.

"Good Candy." Laura picks up the small six sided gift and looks it over curiously. "Funny shape." She shakes it gently and smiles when it rattles quietly. Candy's tail wags just a little harder; thumping the underside of the bar. Laura removes the bow from the top of the gift and uses a finger to test the adhesive strip on the bottom of it. When she finds it still sticky she smiles at Candy and gently orders "Sit up." Her furry companion complies so the girl allows the dog to sniff the bow curiously before she applies gentle pressure to stick the bow to the top of the dog's head. They all laugh merrily and watch the dog shake herself about and paw at her own head until she knocks the bow free. She happily picks it up and gives it back to her young mistress, and then promptly tries to lick the adhesive strip.

"Silly girl!" Laura's next comment is addressed to the adults in the room. "My dog is weird! She thinks glue and other sticky stuff tastes good." Next Laura sticks the bow to the front of her own shirt and then shreds the wrapping paper with the images of Frosty the snowman on it to find a metal container that holds dog treats in the shape of candy canes. She carefully unscrews the lid and smiles when she is greeted by the scent of peppermint. "No wonder she was carrying it around. She can definitely smell this, even with the lid closed and the wrapping paper. Laura palms a treat and offers it to her pal.

Frank watches her feed the dog one more small treat and then replace the lid on the container. "Hey, she doesn't nip your fingers. Every time I try to give her a treat, she catches my fingers. It doesn't really hurt though, she's gentle. It's just a surprise."

"Grandpa, if she's biting your fingers, you doing it wrong."

In response to her grandfather's puzzled look Laura brings the thumb and fingers of one hand together to demonstrate. "You hold treats like this; don't you?

He shrugs. "Guess so. Probably. I've never thought about it."

Laura nods. "That's wrong. You have to hold your hand open flat like this." She demonstrates again holding her hand palm up; open to the air. "Like feeding a horse. The dog trainer told me that when you feed horses, you don't hold the treat between your fingers, because they bite too. They don't mean to, it's hard for them not to. Hold the treat in your palm and open your fingers all the way. That moves your fingers out of Candy's way. You might get dog drool on your hand, but you don't get nibbled."

Frank nods appreciatively as Trish says honestly, "I haven't thought of that either."

Laura giggles. "Course if you don't want to get drooled on either, all you have to do is say her name, and then toss it to her. She almost always catches it in the air; doesn't usually miss."

Mac nods. "As long as she knows treats are inbound, they seldom ever touch the floor."

As if aware of the conversation, the dog gently paws at Laura asking for more of her treats.

Laura moves the treat container away from the edge of the counter and then displays her empty hand. "No more. All gone. Down!"

The dog does as she's told but watches intently as Laura returns to her project.

After a few more minutes of stacking and rearranging different assortments of candy, Laura stacks two caramels beneath a miniature peanut butter cup and tops it off with an inverted chocolate kiss that she carefully settles in the top of the peanut butter cup. Without comment, she disassembles it long enough to add small dots of icing to help secure it and then she hands it to Frank who stares blankly for a moment.

"You know, instead of trying to build the smokestack with square gingerbread pieces." She explains as if it should be obvious.

Frank stares a moment longer and then smiles and shakes his head as he carefully settles the engine's new smokestack into place.

For the next several minutes the adults watch in delight as Laura makes it her mission to decorate each car of the train with her own creative flair using different assortments of candy from her stash. One car has only three sides like an open container. They look on, mildly perplexed, as she carefully slips down from her perch and disappears without a word only to return a moment later with a small wooden ornament in the shape of a nutcracker that she removed from the tree in the living room. She stands the soldier upright in the boxcar and grins happily for her audience. She waits for Trish to carefully remove the hook from the top of the ornament and then fills the remainder of the space in the boxcar with milk duds as if they were lumps of coal to power the train's a steam driven engine and rearranges the order of the cars placing this one closest to the engine. She uses licorice whips cut into small half inch long pieces to link the cars together.

"All done?" Frank inquires.

She eyes her creation speculatively; wrinkling up her nose as she surveys. "Almost." She removes the cap on a small shaker of red and green Christmas sprinkles and coats the entire train in liberal dashes. Once she decides the masterpiece is complete she declares, "There; all done!"

"Best looking gingerbread train I've ever put together!" He winks.

"Grandpa! It's the only gingerbread train you ever put together!"

"True enough honey, true enough, but something tells me it won't be the last. What's next?" He teases. "Bedtime?"

Laura shakes her head adamantly. "Uh uh! Grandpa, you promised we could watch Rudolph! I didn't forget! And I still get to open my one present!"

He chuckles and acquiesces. Okay, go put the DVD in and pick the present you want to open. But wait for us. I'm going to make some popcorn. We'll be right in. Don't start without us."

Laura climbs down from her stool once more and squeals with delight, "Come on Candy; I'll race you!"


	47. Early Christmas Morning

Chapter 47: Aaron, hello and welcome aboard! Because you signed in as a guest, this is the only way I have to respond to your comments within your wonderful review. First, thank you. Second, your desire for something a bit more dramatic is understood. At some point in the near future I hope to do a piece that is a bit more thrilling- not unlike some of those edge of your seat moments we saw within the run of the television show. However, be patient with me, the high action stuff and most of the fancy lawyering won't be seen within the body of this story. Although I do have limited knowledge of surrogacy, writing this particular story has taken a lot of research to get to the point where I'm at and will require more before I'm done. I also have several subplots that have come into play that must be dealt with. However, as I said, be patient and keep an eye out. Adventure may be closer than you think. Thank you for reading, and for reviewing! I love to hear from my readers.

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Tuesday, December 25, 2007

Burnett Residence

0314 Hours

Harm wakes with a mild jolt when he rolls over and realizes that the opposite side of the bed is cold. Why is the bed cold? The reason is slow to register but when it does he sits up and looks around. She's not here. "Why is she not here?" He asks himself. He tosses off the blankets and mutters unhappily when he swings both bare feet over the edge of the bed to the cold floor below. He rises slowly; the mild tension in his lower back is not really enough to cause him pain. It is, however, enough to nag him. Outside, temperatures must have dipped into the forties. He listens and does not here the soft hum of the house's heater. His mother won't turn it on until the temperature indoors dips below 68°. Ordinarily this wouldn't bother him, but with the uncharacteristic rain they've had in recent days, the air is damp and his back is letting him know it. The nagging twinge that accompanies such weather had begun immediately following his ramp strike and gotten a little worse with each punch out or rough landing. He slips into the T shirt he left lying on the top of the dresser at bedtime, gouges the small of his back with his knuckles, and goes in search of his wife tiptoeing through the dark in the familiar house and being careful to avoid the squeaky floorboard in the upstairs hallway.

As he nears the upstairs landing, he quietly peeks into his former bedroom and smiles at the sight of his niece asleep on her side in his old twin size bed. She's curled up with one arm thrown haphazardly around her dog's belly. All four of Candy's paws hang slightly over the edge of the bed and twitch almost indiscernibly. The dog must be dreaming; running, chasing after something in her sleep. She whimpers slightly but not loudly enough to disturb the little girl who's using her shoulder for a pillow. He leaves the door slightly ajar and slips down the stairs into the kitchen. The faint glow of the nightlight plugged into a kitchen output reveals the room to be empty. He crosses and exits the room in the main hallway and heads for the front of the house. Just before reaching the foyer, he takes a right and stops short when he finds her. She's curled up in one corner of the living room sofa, sound asleep in the glow of soft white light from the Christmas tree. Approaching quietly, he picks up an old throw blanket from the seat of Frank's favorite chair and drapes it over her lap and then pulls it up to tuck behind one of her shoulders. She stirs slightly murmuring something beyond comprehension. Her eyes open slowly, and she smiles at him serenely.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you." He whispers. "Go back to sleep."

Instead of settling in, intent on returning to slumber, she reaches for him so he smiles and joins her; tucking himself in behind her on the sofa and using one foot to cover the other with the end of her blanket. He waits until she finds her spot, nestled in against his chest, and then folds his arm around her. She's warm. Maybe his back will loosen up a bit if he keeps her near.

"What are you doing down here?" He whispers. "Did we forget one of her gifts earlier?"

Mac silently checks her internal clock. "No… came back down a little over an hour ago." She murmurs sleepily.

"But why?"

"Crazy hormones… Smokin' sexy dreams… woke up all hot and bothered. Sorry, but I had to get away from you. It was either that, or I was going to wake you up and have my way with you Flyboy."

The noise he makes is caught somewhere between a quiet chuckle and a groan. "Can't do that… Big no-no!"

"Yeah, I know… But I was about three seconds away from not giving a damn. Harm, who's bright idea was it for us to do this over the Christmas holiday? She yawns.

"As I recall, it was a joint decision; one we made together."

"We shouldn't listen to us. We're idiots!"

He laughs and she turns slightly and covers his mouth with her fingertips. "Shhh… Don't wake everybody up." She waits until he quiets down before she whines. "Seriously Harm, this sucks! It's Christmas! I miss you!"

He kisses her ear lightly and wrestles with the urge to pull her a little closer. "I miss you too Sarah, but we've only got 11 days to go. If we mess things up now, we'll have to start all over again."

She shakes her head adamantly and declares childishly; sounding, to him, very much like Laura.. "Na uh!" "No way! I'm not starting over! I refuse! If we mess up, that's just gonna be too bad, because I'm not going to feel like a human tiki torch for another six weeks!"

He bites his lip to keep from laughing out loud. "A human what?"

"You heard me!" She hisses. "I'm a human tiki torch! Damn hot flashes! I told you, feels like my head is on fire when it happens… Not to mention the rest of me."

"I thought you were exaggerating."

She shakes her head again, just as vigorously as before only this time she gently elbows him for good measure. "Your mother is the only one who takes me seriously about that."

"Mom?"

"Yeah, I love your mom! She's awesome!" Mac declares with quiet zeal. "It happened again when we're making pies before dinner tonight.

One second I'm perfectly fine, and the next, it's like the boiler's about to explode. I try not to complain. I know it's me. Everyone else is perfectly comfortable and I've got molten lava in my veins.

Frank was busy talking to Laura about something but when he walked into the room he stopped dead in his tracks. I think he came in to get his car keys so he could go get our dinner. He asked me if I was okay, and when I said yes… why, he commented that he didn't think it was that warm in the room; not even with the oven going. Your mom stopped rolling pie crust out, took one look at me, handed him his keys, and shooed him out of the room. Without saying a word, she wrapped a packet of frozen green beans in a dish towel, pressed it into the back of my neck, and poured me a glass of iced tea. Then she forced me to sit down. I tried telling her that I was fine, that it is all perfectly normal these days. That's when she informed me that there is absolutely nothing normal about power surges strong enough to make a Marine sweat bullets and turn three different brilliant shades of pink in under 30 seconds. I tried to get up. I wanted to go back to what we were doing. She ordered me to sit down and stay there until my internal organs returned from their spur the moment vacation in the seventh ring of Hell!"

Mac giggles quietly. "Call me crazy, but I think she understands! She didn't laugh, make jokes, or even ask what was wrong with me. She just knew."

"Well, you did give her all that information. She's not the kind to just glance at something like that idly and then dismiss it. She cares about you."

Mac shakes her head. "It's more than that Harm. I didn't tell her how I felt. She just knew. Given her age, she's probably been through something similar, albeit more natural… less drug induced."

"And she helped?"

"Yeah, she did. I let her fuss over me until I couldn't stand it anymore and she seemed to pick up on when that was too. It felt kinda weird, but nice too." Mac yawns and declares sleepily. "You think I'm exaggerating, making jokes, but I'm not. We screw this up… I'm not starting over! We'll just have to buy a kid!"

"I don't wanna buy a kid unless we have no other option. That's kind of illegal Mac… Not to mention just plain bad."

Slipping toward sleep once more, she murmurs "Well then you better go to sleep Flyboy before my libido kicks into overdrive again, or the next heat wave occurs and I spontaneously combust."

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Dawn

"Someone's in the kitchen. Frank whispers and follows it up with a muffled yawn."

"I'll bet you she's just under four foot tall." is his wife's sleepy reply.

"Wonder if she knows what time it is."

Trish rolls onto her side and smiles at him. "She knows it's Christmas morning. Her happy little brain says, 'It's time to get out of bed.' At this moment, that's probably all she knows, and it's all she cares about."

They are content to linger, both of them quite happy where they are for several minutes more; at least until curiosity and maternal instinct get the better of Trish and she can no longer passively listen to the faint sounds of the little girl moving around in the room directly below. She feels compelled, if not entirely thrilled, to rise and go check on the youngest member of her family. Just as she pushes back the blankets Frank begins to chuckle. "I didn't think you'd wait this long."

When the couple enters their kitchen clad in pajamas, slippers, and robes, they're mildly surprised to find three of the small kitchen table's four chairs have been relocated throughout the room. One is near the refrigerator. One is visible through the open pantry door, and the other is nearest to the section of counter where a large toaster oven can be found. Laura is perched here as well, carefully studying the back of a bag she obviously removed from the freezer, while her dog carefully studies her. She doesn't look up until she hears them enter, but when she does she smiles brightly.

"Good morning. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas darling. What are you up to in here?"

She carefully opens the zip lock seal on the bag as well as the toaster oven door. "I went and looked at all the pretty presents but I didn't want to wake up Uncle Harm and Aunt Mac. I got hungry waiting for them to wake up. I'm making me some breakfast."

Trish smiles patiently. "Laura, I'm not so sure it's a good idea for you to use the toaster oven when all the grownups in the house are asleep."

This catches Laura by surprise. "But I'm not. You're awake. Besides, I do it all the time at Mom's house; it's easy."

Now it's Frank's turn to be surprised. He gently takes the bag from the girl. "You're allowed to use the toaster oven by yourself at home with Mom."

Laura shrugs and gives him a funny look. "That's the only way I eat breakfast is if I make it myself. Mom doesn't. So Mimi showed me how to work the toaster oven. See, that bag says 350. So you just make the knob on top match. It's says 20 or maybe 25 minutes. So I'd put 23 minutes on the second knob. The light comes on. The oven starts making that ticking noise and gets hot. When the bell rings breakfast is ready. It's easy; not hard."

The adults stare at each other in disbelief for a moment before Trish queries, "I bet you don't do this at home with Aunt Mac and Uncle Harm."

Laura shrugs. "Never had to. Uncle Harm says Aunt Mac gets up before God…" Laura giggles. "She makes Uncle Harm get up too, and he make us breakfast. But they are sleepy heads this morning. They're all scrunched up together on the couch."

Upon hearing this, Frank leaves the room and returns momentarily with a smile and nod. "They're out cold."

"Both of them, on the couch, together?" Why? Is there something wrong with the bed upstairs?"

"You want me to wake them up now and ask them that?"

"No, of course not."

From her perch on the kitchen counter, Laura shakes her head. "You're bed's probably fine. They're just weird. They do that at home all the time too. Sometimes, Aunt Mac can't sleep good. She goes to the couch because she doesn't want to wake up Uncle Harm. He said he gets lonely without her so when he wakes up and she's not there, he goes to the couch too. Looks really uncomfortable to me, but Aunt Mac doesn't care. She said they've slept in worse places; places like the desert, submarines, caves, airplanes, and even a gypsy's wagon once in Russia… Actually, she said any place in Russia is just bad, bad, bad."

Once again, the two adults stare at each other in wonder. "A gypsy's wagon?"

Laura nods her head enthusiastically. "That's what Aunt Mac said."

Trish shakes her head in amazement. "Let's deal with one thing at a time. Laura, darling I'm not comfortable with you using the toaster oven unsupervised. Not even if you use to do it at home. I don't think Aunt Mac or Uncle Harm would like it either. In the first place, you could get burned. In the second, little girl's shouldn't have to make their own breakfast; especially not when they're your age. That's a grownups job; okay?"

"It's not hard, really, I promise but if you don't want me to do it, I won't."

"Okay, thank you. What would you like for breakfast? I can fix you anything you want." She points to the bag Frank is still holding. "I'll even fix you something better than Grandpa's pigs in blankets."

Laura's eyes go wide. "But that's what I want." She turns to Frank. "Can I have some? Will you share with me?"

He gives her a wide, happy smile and passes the bag to Trish. "You bet I will. Come on, let's have Grandma take care of this while you and I go wake up the sleepy heads. Their ill-chosen napping spot is getting in the way of you opening presents."

She reaches for him and he scoops her up as she explains, "It was okay to wait a little while. They look like one of Chloe's pictures, asleep in all the pretty light from the Christmas tree."

Frank shakes his head, his eyes sparkling merrily as he winks at his wife over the top of their granddaughter's head.


	48. Christmas Gifts

**Chapter 48: Christmas**

**Author's note**: First and foremost, my apologies for the delay. This chapter might have been posted last night, but yesterday afternoon my mother emailed me and asked for my help proofreading a PowerPoint presentation she have to give this coming Thursday. I now know more about OSHA regulations and chemical plant safety management protocols than I ever cared to know.

If you've ever seen one of those breaking news bulletins where some anchor tells you about a chemical plant disaster with a smile on her face, I live in fear of such broadcasts, and they're nothing to smile about! I'm fairly certain people all over the country heard about it the last time the Texas City plant had a crisis. Mama was there. I thank God that she walked away from it with no injury more serious than a head full of bad memories.

ime the Texas City plant had a crisis. Mama was there. I thank God that she walked away from it with no injury more serious than a head full of bad memories.

Trevor, over here on this side of the pond pigs in blankets are a little bit different, but the British way sounds yummy too. Here, where I live, they are occasionally served as an appetizer but most often as a breakfast food. They usually consist of sausage links wrapped in a roll or croissant of some kind. Local flavor often adds cheese or jalapeno to the mix. As you'll see in this chapter, Frank's, and subsequently, Laura's preferred style is yet one more adaptation.

Annie, No you're not the first person to comment on how visual my writing is, but I never get tired of hearing it. It's a far bigger compliment than you know, but I can't take all the credit. A large part of it goes to a woman by the name of Eva Theresa.

She is my dearest friend in life and my sister by providence. She has been blind since birth. We've known each other for very nearly 25 years. As teenagers, she asked me to define colors for her in a way that she would be able to understand. It took some doing, and it required me to think about color in an 'outside the box' kind of way. Try as I may, purple is still the one color that she has trouble comprehending. The concept of blending red and blue together confuses her. Beyond the fact that the color purple use to signify royalty, she has no concrete understanding of it. She doesn't understand color the way sighted people do, but she has her own interpretations and they're fairly tactile concepts. For her, color is most often, though not always, associated with her sense of touch.

Ironically, after an eye surgery a number of years ago, I spent a week recuperating and completely blind. It gave me a far better understanding of what daily life is like for her. I can now tell you that when you lose one sense, even just for a short while, the other four do intensify. In fact, they go into overdrive. That's not just an old wives' tale. Absolutely nothing smells better than the great outdoors five minutes before it rains or bread in the oven, or worse than rotten poultry… unless it's rotten beans. If you think you like or dislike any one of those fragrances now, walk around blind for a week. Trust me, the good will get better, and the bad will get a whole lot worse. A hard rain on city pavement sounds just like a steak sizzling on the grill. To me, the sound is so provocative that I can almost smell the steak whether there is one or not. Yes, a good hard rain makes my mouth water for a nice medium rare steak. I now understand completely that my mother didn't really have eyes in the back of her head when I was growing up. She was just used more than her eyes to keep track of us. She was just use to listening to her children and all the little things we did without even thinking about it. Also, you cannot imagine how incredibly intense a person's sense of touch has to be in order to read Braille. It's phenomenal.

Any time I write something I ask myself, "If Eva were reading this, would she know what is going on? Would she be able to see it?" Much of 'visual' writing isn't about vision at all. It's about the emotions that those visions stir. So, It isn't enough just to write about what can be seen, because even if Eva could see she wouldn't know what she was looking at until she touched it, or was able to observe it in some other fashion. I have to also write about how things feel, sound, smell and taste in order to paint the complete picture.

* * *

Tuesday, December 25, 2007

Burnett Residence

Warming their hands around steaming mugs of coffee or hot apple cider the adults watch Laura clamor around beneath the Christmas tree. The child ferrets out all of the gifts and puts each one into a stack according to who the recipient is. When she has everything separated out, a small pile goes back under the tree as the gifts in it are meant for guests who will arrive later in the day. Walking on her knees, she pushes and shoves the largest gift under the tree over to the pile nearest her own.

"Jiminy Cricket, Grandma! What's in this thing? It's heavier than me!"

Candy watches the gift distribution intently. She sits, waiting patiently until the big box stops moving. Once it's delivered to its proper place, she approaches happily, and gives the gift wrapped box a good whiff and then proceeds to prance in circles around it.

Familiar with this behavior, Laura laughs. "Never mind. I know what's in this box. Don't say it out loud; she'll go nuts!" Laura picks up several smaller gifts and places them on top of the larger one. "Candy, these are all yours. You wait. I'll open them for you."

Before returning to her own stack of gifts she moves each additional stack; personally making sure that it is delivered to the appropriate adult. Next, she stops briefly at the coffee table, sips from her own mug of apple cider and pops a sausage link wrapped in blueberry pancake into her mouth.

"These are really good Grandpa. Aunt Mac, we need to get some for our house. She bobs her chin with certainty. "I never had pigs in blankets with blueberries before… I like 'em."

Trish laughs. "Darling, just out of idle curiosity, is there anything you don't like?"

Laura makes a sour face, wrinkles her nose and shivers in revulsion. "Broccoli… Ye…uck!"

Trish nods and blows lightly against the steam rising from her morning brew, more interested in watching Laura at the moment then an opening her own gifts, and she's not the only one. All eyes in the room are fixed on the little girl with the warm smile who's still got a serious case of bed head.

"Okay." Trish comments. "I'll remember that. Try not to drip syrup on the front of your nightgown." She pauses and raises an eyebrow. "What is on the front of your nightgown?"

Laura stands up carefully, and stretches the fabric gently so that it may be easily viewed. She glances down at it herself and giggles when Trish laughs at what she sees. Splayed across Laura's small chest is the image of a fuzzy yellow chick in black frame glasses. The caption underneath reads, 'Chick with brains.'

"Aunt Mac got it for me for my birthday!"

"Aunt Mac chose well."

"I like it!" Laura announces before she chooses a gift from her pile and begins to shred wrapping paper.

Between her gifts and Candy's, Laura spends the better part of 20 minutes opening presents. When it's over, she sits among the wrapping paper debris, with four new outfits and a new pair of two tone sneakers in painfully bright neon yellow and green to try on. There's a three dimensional wooden puzzle shaped like a Labrador, an assortment of child-size costume jewelry in obnoxiously bright colors, and one very special doll. Laura examines the doll carefully along with all the accessories that come with her, but before she can ask any questions or express an opinion, Candy sniffs curiously at the new animal hoodie her young mistress wears. The hat is shaped like a brown bear's head. The bears arms can double as a scarf and his paws are mittens. Candy sniffs again, and this time she sneezes.

"Hey you! Don't sneeze all over my bear!" Laura gently pushes the dog's nose away from her head but then rises on her knees and hugs the dog while Trish laughs." Your grandfather insisted on buying that bear hoodie for you darling. I don't think it gets cold enough here for something like that. Are you sure you won't be too hot?"

Laura shrugs happily. "I don't care if it's hot. I like it! It's cute. Besides, I get cold easy anyway."

Trish looks at Mac and Mac nods. "She does. Her school building is always cold too. Open the front door to walk her in; it's like stepping into a meat locker - year round. The winter, the summer, it doesn't matter when; that place is always freezing. I've dropped her off at the school with a jacket in June. No matter the temperature outside she comes out of the building in the afternoon wearing a jacket."

While the adults talk, Laura begins opening her furry companions presents. Among them are a new glow in the dark pink collar; which Laura immediately snaps into place around the big dog's neck, another big box of dog treats; in addition to the one they'd opened the previous night, two knuckle bones, and a fuzzy plush yellow chew toy in the shape of a platypus. Laura activates the squeaker just once and Candy bounds and dives after it, forgetting all about the giant box that smells like dog food; at least for a brief while.

While the dog plays, Laura dons some bracelets and a big beaded necklace and wanders about admiring Grandma's new necklace, Grandpa's new wallet, and gifts that the Aunt Mac and Uncle Harm exchanged. Mac has an assortment of small gifts all wrapped in the same box; a passbook for a new bank account, a big white book with the word 'baby' on the front cover, and she giggles happily when she finds camouflage booties meant for tiny newborn feet wrapped in delicate white tissue paper.

Laura grins. "We don't even have a baby yet."

"But we will… before you know it." Harm winks at the girl. He scoops her up into his lap.

"Is the big book a photo album?"

"Not exactly, but you can put pictures in it. A baby book is where you write down all the fun stuff about your baby that you don't want to forget."

Laura nods. "Oh, okay. What's the little book for?"

"Baby's college fund."

"Already?"

"College is expensive. It takes parents a really long time to save up enough money."

"It does?" She frowns. "Chloe goes to college; right? She has a job"

Harm nods. "And scholarships too. They help pay for some of it."

Laura squints and becomes very quiet.

Anticipating the flow of her thoughts Mac says, "Stop worrying about it. You're going too."

Laura shrugs. "Don't know how... Less I get a job like Chloe. Mom doesn't even save enough money to pay the gas bill. It's no fun taking cold baths. Does college cost more than the gas bill?"

Harm tilts his head back and laughs before he pats her on the back. "Only several 1000 times more."

Her eyes grow wide and she falls silent once more.

Without looking up from the blank pages of the baby book she is perusing Mac says, "Harm, stop it; you're scaring her." To Laura, she says again, "Stop worrying about it. I've got you covered. You get the grades; I'll get the money."

"You got it covered? I have college money?"

"You do. I opened the account a little over a year ago. By the time you're ready to go, you'll have more than enough to get you started."

"I'm going to college!" Laura beams.

Mac reaches over and pats the girl's leg. "Yeah you are." She chuckles. "Now try not to sound so happy about it."

Laura squints profoundly. "Why not?"

Because you're seven; that's why. Go play with some of your new toys."

Laura looks at her collection of new things for a few seconds and then shakes her head "Not yet. I wanna see what Uncle Harm got first."

He smiles at her, and places the box that still contains his gift from Mac in her lap. "I was just about to open it. Wanna help me?"

Laura's only reply is to eagerly pick at the tape that still holds the nondescript cardboard box shut. With a little help from her uncle, she manages to open the box and toss out the packing material, scattering it every which direction, until she smiles at what's inside.

"Uh Mac? I thought we agreed on a price limit."

His wife shoots him a sly smile. "What? I stuck to it. I bought it at a pawn shop. Don't worry, I made the guy plug in and turn it on to prove that it worked first. Didn't have the original box, but there's not a scratch on it. I bet you can print the owner's manual online from the manufacturer's website."

When Frank raises a curious eyebrow, Harm lifts a compact, handheld, video camera out of the box.

Frank nods. "Another good 'preparing for baby' gift."

"Didn't have the carrying case… But I'm sure you can buy one." Mac continues.

"What's these." Laura holds up a packet she found in the bottom of the box.

"Darling those would be guitar strings."

Harm smiles at his wife.

"I figured you might need some new ones." She shrugs. "Somebody needs to play the lullabies, because I'm certainly not going to sing them."

"Uncle Harm plays the guitar?"

"He does, and he's not bad at it; especially for a guy who mostly plays just the entertain himself."

"I wanna hear."

Harm hugs the girl close. "My guitar is it our house. Maybe after we get home. Why don't you go get dressed now; maybe try on those new clothes."

"Harm's right." Trish declares. "We all need to be getting dressed. Our guests are going to be arriving this afternoon, and if we're not careful, we'll still be sitting around here in our P J's watching Laura play. Let's get dressed first then we'll come back down and clean up this mess, and Candy can have a little bit of that dog food she's sitting there salivating over."

"I already gave her breakfast, before I started trying to make my own." Laura eyes the dog thoughtfully. "I guess she can have a little bit more... since it's Christmas."

Frank laughs. "Sure why not. People always eat too much on the holidays; why shouldn't the dog be allowed to do the same?"

* * *

Trevor, over here on this side of the pond pigs in blankets are a little bit different, but the British way sounds yummy too. Here, where I live, they are occasionally served as an appetizer but most often as a breakfast food. They usually consist of sausage links wrapped in a roll or croissant of some kind. Local flavor often adds cheese or jalapeno to the mix. As you'll see in this chapter, Frank's, and subsequently, Laura's preferred style is yet one more adaptation.

Annie, No you're not the first person to comment on how visual my writing is, but I never get tired of hearing it. It's a far bigger compliment than you know, but I can't take all the credit. A large part of it goes to a woman by the name of Eva Theresa.

She is my dearest friend in life and my sister by providence. She has been blind since birth. We've known each other for very nearly 25 years. As teenagers, she asked me to define colors for her in a way that she would be able to understand. It took some doing, and it required me to think about color in an 'outside the box' kind of way. Try as I may, purple is still the one color that she has trouble comprehending. The concept of blending red and blue together confuses her. Beyond the fact that the color purple use to signify royalty, she has no concrete understanding of it. She doesn't understand color the way sighted people do, but she has her own interpretations and they're fairly tactile concepts. For her, color is most often, though not always, associated with her sense of touch.

Ironically, after an eye surgery a number of years ago, I spent a week recuperating and completely blind. It gave me a far better understanding of what daily life is like for her. I can now tell you that when you lose one sense, even just for a short while, the other four do intensify. In fact, they go into overdrive. That's not just an old wives' tale. Absolutely nothing smells better than the great outdoors five minutes before it rains or bread in the oven, or worse than rotten poultry… unless it's rotten beans. If you think you like or dislike any one of those fragrances now, walk around blind for a week. Trust me, the good will get better, and the bad will get a whole lot worse. A hard rain on city pavement sounds just like a steak sizzling on the grill. To me, the sound is so provocative that I can almost smell the steak whether there is one or not. Yes, a good hard rain makes my mouth water for a nice medium rare steak. I now understand completely that my mother didn't really have eyes in the back of her head when I was growing up. She was just used more than her eyes to keep track of us. She was just use to listening to her children and all the little things we did without even thinking about it. Also, you cannot imagine how incredibly intense a person's sense of touch has to be in order to read Braille. It's phenomenal.

Any time I write something I ask myself, "If Eva were reading this, would she know what is going on? Would she be able to see it?" Much of 'visual' writing isn't about vision at all. It's about the emotions that those visions stir. So, It isn't enough just to write about what can be seen, because even if Eva could see she wouldn't know what she was looking at until she touched it, or was able to observe it in some other fashion. I have to also write about how things feel, sound, smell and taste in order to paint the complete picture.

* * *

Tuesday, December 25, 2007

Burnett Residence

Warming their hands around steaming mugs of coffee or hot apple cider the adults watch Laura clamor around beneath the Christmas tree. The child ferrets out all of the gifts and puts each one into a stack according to who the recipient is. When she has everything separated out, a small pile goes back under the tree as the gifts in it are meant for guests who will arrive later in the day. Walking on her knees, she pushes and shoves the largest gift under the tree over to the pile nearest her own.

"Jiminy Cricket, Grandma! What's in this thing? It's heavier than me!"

Candy watches the gift distribution intently. She sits, waiting patiently until the big box stops moving. Once it's delivered to its proper place, she approaches happily, and gives the gift wrapped box a good whiff and then proceeds to prance in circles around it.

Familiar with this behavior, Laura laughs. "Never mind. I know what's in this box. Don't say it out loud; she'll go nuts!" Laura picks up several smaller gifts and places them on top of the larger one. "Candy, these are all yours. You wait. I'll open them for you."

Before returning to her own stack of gifts she moves each additional stack; personally making sure that it is delivered to the appropriate adult. Next, she stops briefly at the coffee table, sips from her own mug of apple cider and pops a sausage link wrapped in blueberry pancake into her mouth.

"These are really good Grandpa. Aunt Mac, we need to get some for our house. She bobs her chin with certainty. "I never had pigs in blankets with blueberries before… I like 'em."

Trish laughs. "Darling, just out of idle curiosity, is there anything you don't like?"

Laura makes a sour face, wrinkles her nose and shivers in revulsion. "Broccoli… Ye…uck!"

Trish nods and blows lightly against the steam rising from her morning brew, more interested in watching Laura at the moment then an opening her own gifts, and she's not the only one. All eyes in the room are fixed on the little girl with the warm smile who's still got a serious case of bed head.

"Okay." Trish comments. "I'll remember that. Try not to drip syrup on the front of your nightgown." She pauses and raises an eyebrow. "What is on the front of your nightgown?"

Laura stands up carefully, and stretches the fabric gently so that it may be easily viewed. She glances down at it herself and giggles when Trish laughs at what she sees. Splayed across Laura's small chest is the image of a fuzzy yellow chick in black frame glasses. The caption underneath reads, 'Chick with brains.'

"Aunt Mac got it for me for my birthday!"

"Aunt Mac chose well."

"I like it!" Laura announces before she chooses a gift from her pile and begins to shred wrapping paper.

Between her gifts and Candy's, Laura spends the better part of 20 minutes opening presents. When it's over, she sits among the wrapping paper debris, with four new outfits and a new pair of two tone sneakers in painfully bright neon yellow and green to try on. There's a three dimensional wooden puzzle shaped like a Labrador, an assortment of child-size costume jewelry in obnoxiously bright colors, and one very special doll. Laura examines the doll carefully along with all the accessories that come with her, but before she can ask any questions or express an opinion, Candy sniffs curiously at the new animal hoodie her young mistress wears. The hat is shaped like a brown bear's head. The bears arms can double as a scarf and his paws are mittens. Candy sniffs again, and this time she sneezes.

"Hey you! Don't sneeze all over my bear!" Laura gently pushes the dog's nose away from her head but then rises on her knees and hugs the dog while Trish laughs." Your grandfather insisted on buying that bear hoodie for you darling. I don't think it gets cold enough here for something like that. Are you sure you won't be too hot?"

Laura shrugs happily. "I don't care if it's hot. I like it! It's cute. Besides, I get cold easy anyway."

Trish looks at Mac and Mac nods. "She does. Her school building is always cold too. Open the front door to walk her in; it's like stepping into a meat locker - year round. The winter, the summer, it doesn't matter when; that place is always freezing. I've dropped her off at the school with a jacket in June. No matter the temperature outside she comes out of the building in the afternoon wearing a jacket."

While the adults talk, Laura begins opening her furry companions presents. Among them are a new glow in the dark pink collar; which Laura immediately snaps into place around the big dog's neck, another big box of dog treats; in addition to the one they'd opened the previous night, two knuckle bones, and a fuzzy plush yellow chew toy in the shape of a platypus. Laura activates the squeaker just once and Candy bounds and dives after it, forgetting all about the giant box that smells like dog food; at least for a brief while.

While the dog plays, Laura dons some bracelets and a big beaded necklace and wanders about admiring Grandma's new necklace, Grandpa's new wallet, and gifts that the Aunt Mac and Uncle Harm exchanged. Mac has an assortment of small gifts all wrapped in the same box; a passbook for a new bank account, a big white book with the word 'baby' on the front cover, and she giggles happily when she finds camouflage booties meant for tiny newborn feet wrapped in delicate white tissue paper.

Laura grins. "We don't even have a baby yet."

"But we will… before you know it." Harm winks at the girl. He scoops her up into his lap.

"Is the big book a photo album?"

"Not exactly, but you can put pictures in it. A baby book is where you write down all the fun stuff about your baby that you don't want to forget."

Laura nods. "Oh, okay. What's the little book for?"

"Baby's college fund."

"Already?"

"College is expensive. It takes parents a really long time to save up enough money."

"It does?" She frowns. "Chloe goes to college; right? She has a job"

Harm nods. "And scholarships too. They help pay for some of it."

Laura squints and becomes very quiet.

Anticipating the flow of her thoughts Mac says, "Stop worrying about it. You're going too."

Laura shrugs. "Don't know how... Less I get a job like Chloe. Mom doesn't even save enough money to pay the gas bill. It's no fun taking cold baths. Does college cost more than the gas bill?"

Harm tilts his head back and laughs before he pats her on the back. "Only several 1000 times more."

Her eyes grow wide and she falls silent once more.

Without looking up from the blank pages of the baby book she is perusing Mac says, "Harm, stop it; you're scaring her." To Laura, she says again, "Stop worrying about it. I've got you covered. You get the grades; I'll get the money."

"You got it covered? I have college money?"

"You do. I opened the account a little over a year ago. By the time you're ready to go, you'll have more than enough to get you started."

"I'm going to college!" Laura beams.

Mac reaches over and pats the girl's leg. "Yeah you are." She chuckles. "Now try not to sound so happy about it."

Laura squints profoundly. "Why not?"

Because you're seven; that's why. Go play with some of your new toys."

Laura looks at her collection of new things for a few seconds and then shakes her head "Not yet. I wanna see what Uncle Harm got first."

He smiles at her, and places the box that still contains his gift from Mac in her lap. "I was just about to open it. Wanna help me?"

Laura's only reply is to eagerly pick at the tape that still holds the nondescript cardboard box shut. With a little help from her uncle, she manages to open the box and toss out the packing material, scattering it every which direction, until she smiles at what's inside.

"Uh Mac? I thought we agreed on a price limit."

His wife shoots him a sly smile. "What? I stuck to it. I bought it at a pawn shop. Don't worry, I made the guy plug in and turn it on to prove that it worked first. Didn't have the original box, but there's not a scratch on it. I bet you can print the owner's manual online from the manufacturer's website."

When Frank raises a curious eyebrow, Harm lifts a compact, handheld, video camera out of the box.

Frank nods. "Another good 'preparing for baby' gift."

"Didn't have the carrying case… But I'm sure you can buy one." Mac continues.

"What's these." Laura holds up a packet she found in the bottom of the box.

"Darling those would be guitar strings."

Harm smiles at his wife.

"I figured you might need some new ones." She shrugs. "Somebody needs to play the lullabies, because I'm certainly not going to sing them."

"Uncle Harm plays the guitar?"

"He does, and he's not bad at it; especially for a guy who mostly plays just the entertain himself."

"I wanna hear."

Harm hugs the girl close. "My guitar is it our house. Maybe after we get home. Why don't you go get dressed now; maybe try on those new clothes."

"Harm's right." Trish declares. "We all need to be getting dressed. Our guests are going to be arriving this afternoon, and if we're not careful, we'll still be sitting around here in our P J's watching Laura play. Let's get dressed first then we'll come back down and clean up this mess, and Candy can have a little bit of that dog food she's sitting there salivating over."

"I already gave her breakfast, before I started trying to make my own." Laura eyes the dog thoughtfully. "I guess she can have a little bit more... since it's Christmas."

Frank laughs. "Sure why not. People always eat too much on the holidays; why shouldn't the dog be allowed to do the same?"

* * *

**Author's note**: For Laura's diehard fans, don't worry, the gift she opened on Christmas Eve and the special doll mentioned in this chapter will be described in greater detail in the next chapter. Sorry folks, I've got to have a break. I hope you enjoyed what there is of this chapter. More soon, promise.


	49. Christmas Past

**Chapter 49: Christmases Past**

**Author's note**: This was one of those chapters that came out of nowhere. It wasn't what I intended to write at all. Not even close, but here it is nonetheless. Somehow it feels right. Let me know what you think.

* * *

Tuesday, December 25, 2007

Burnett Residence

"Tell me about your favorite Christmas… and it can't be this one."

The question makes its way around the table.

When it's her turn, Trish smiles with mild discomfort at her guests and reaches across the table to squeeze Frank's hand anyway. Her objection is a good natured one. "He knows I hate it when he asks me this question, but he does it nearly every Christmas. "With the exception of a few truly awful ones, my favorite Christmas is almost always the one I'm currently experiencing. "I say, why can't it be this one?"

"Yeah!" Laura interrupts; concurring with sweet enthusiasm from her place at the head of the table where she, rather strategically, was positioned after she insisted on sitting beside both of her grandparents. "I'm only seven. I don't remember that many Christmases." She pauses to nibble on a piece of turkey. "But I know that this is the best Christmas I ever had for sure!"

Trish leans over and kisses the top of the girl's head. "This is the first time in many years that Frank and I have been able to celebrate the holiday as it should be celebrated… surrounded by family. I'm grateful for that and for the new face at our table this year." She pauses long enough to smile warmly at Laura. "I'm also hopeful that by this time next year there will be another new little face at this table; even if he or she is too small to enjoy all this wonderful food."

Giving in, Frank winks at Laura. "Okay honey. I know you like this Christmas the best, but what do you like the most?"

Laura puts down her fork, props her chin in the palm of her hand and gives the question serious thought. After a few seconds of silence she announces, "That's no fair Grandpa! I can't pick only one thing… First, I got to live with Aunt Mac. Now I have Uncle Harm and you and Grandma too; and all my new friends." The little girl smiles brightly for each and every person at the table. "I really like having a real Christmas tree. I never had a real tree before. Most of the time, not even a fake one. The real one smells so good, and it's pretty too; and Candy got presents too!" Her young face glows with happiness as the dog at her feet lifts her head; her ears pricking up in response to her name.

Keeter grins at the girl. "You got a pretty nice stack of presents in the other room too kid!"

Laura nods eagerly. "I like them all too; but they aren't the best part. Grandma cooks way better than Mom… and I didn't get yelled at. Not even once!

Keeter scowls as if he's ready to do battle. "Who yelled at you runt?"

Laura shrugs significantly less bothered by this fact than her charming friend. Mom did last year. I didn't want to go to the restaurant for Christmas dinner. Mom said she'd try to cook. The stuffing she made came from a box, and it was nasty! The oven caught fire!" Laura giggles as the memory. "I told Derek to use the fire extinguisher, but he was jumping around like a monkey trying to put the fire out with a towel and he looked super silly so I started laughing and took my bag of Christmas cookies and went outside."

She shakes her head vehemently. "I was not going to stay in there and burn up! The ham was hard and black like a rock!" Laura shakes her head yet again. Mom burned it; not me!" Laura shrugs; wholly unconcerned with her mother's unwarranted accusation. "She said it was my fault anyway because I was a spoiled brat just 'cause I didn't want chicken fried steak at the restaurant for Christmas."

Harm chuckles around a bite of sweet potato casserole. "You aren't a brat Sweetheart, but I think restaurant chicken fried steak might have been safer. Besides, I'm sure your aunt approved. She loves food liked that! "

"Aunt Mac wasn't here for Christmas last year, but she left me some presents before she went to Kandahar. She said that was some place in Afghanistan."

Caught unaware, Harm shoots his wife a look that is equal parts surprise and concern.

She pauses, her fork midair between her plate and her mouth. "Sent a couple of my people over there to deal with a situation… things when… sideways. I went to get them back."

"You had to be the one to go?" he asks; knowing from experience that there's a great deal she's editing out.

"Yes, I did have to be the one. It was either that or I'd have to deliver condolences to both their families. Doing that is always horrible… Doing it that close to Christmas…" She gazes at both he and his mother with affection. Well, I just wasn't going to do it, not if there was anything I could do to prevent it. Besides, I distinctly recall Chegwidden coming after you and me a time or two."

Harm groans. "And as I recall, he was never quite happy about having to do that."

"I wasn't particularly happy about it either, but I went." She offers him a wide smile as she adds; in an attempt to lighten the mood, "Didn't punch anybody in the face either. However, I did think about it… thought about it very seriously."

Harm chuckles wryly. "Please tell me you didn't go over there because of some half-baked mission Webb cooked up."

"No, he had nothing to do with it, but if I live long enough to get old and senile and forget your name, I will remember Chegwidden punching him in the face after our helicopter touched down."

Jennifer Coates and Elizabeth Hawkes exchange curious looks so Mac does her best to enlightenment them all. "Harm requested leave to go to Russia – well actually what he requested was leave to come here to visit with his mother after obtaining information related to his father's MIA status. The admiral and I both knew that while he would come here, he'd also wind up in Russia alone… so, I hopped a plane. Clayton Webb was supposed to keep an eye on us; help us out. His actions did not meet with Admiral Chegwidden's approval in the least and he personally came to bring us home because, thanks to an over-eager ZNN reporter, we were presumed dead and Chegwidden didn't believe a word of it. When the three of us were safe - after Harm and I'd been shot out of the sky while we were trying to get to Lubyanka, hung upside down in trees courtesy of our parachutes, and endured a trip through rough country in the back of a gypsy wagon, all before we finally made it to Svischevo… where Harm ultimately got to end his search - well, unfortunately for Webb, the admiral made his displeasure known."

Coates chuckles discreetly behind her napkin. "I'd have paid to see that!"

Harm comments dryly. "No need to spend your money. Chegwidden would've let you watch for free."

Frank sips from his glass before commenting, "This morning when Trish and I were trying to figure out why you two would choose to sleep on the couch together, Laura mentioned something about the two of you sleeping in some very unusual places. One of the places she listed was a gypsy's wagon."

Mac chuckles quietly as she offers the girl a warm smile. "I can see that I'm going to have to start censoring myself a little better when I tell her about our adventures. I can just imagine how such comments might have been taken out of context. Yes, technically that is one of the places we've slept… And yes, we were together. However, there was nothing romantic about it. Unless you happen to be crazy enough to find a gypsy's somewhat misplaced foretelling of death and despair sexy. Believe me, it certainly wasn't a place we would have chosen."

Trish squints. "Somewhat misplaced?

Unaware of exactly how much she knows, and unable to retract her comment, Mac chooses to precede with caution and answers lightly, "Yeah, her facts were a little skewed, but pre-cognitive visions, if you believe in that sort of thing, can't usually be taken literally. They are often misleading and easily misinterpreted."

"Harm has mentioned you being able to do something like that a few times. While he seems to have unshakable faith in your ability, he doesn't seem to understand how it works."

"Trish, it happens to me and I don't understand how it works, or perhaps it would be better to say, I don't understand why it works. All I know for sure is; it works. One night several years ago, I dreamed about my own violent and untimely demise only to realize the next day that it was a vision of someone else's death… Someone I didn't know well, but I related to her on a personal level. So it seemed, in the dream, that I confused her with myself."

"That had to be unsettling… disturbing." She eyes her daughter-in-law with compassion.

"It wasn't my favorite experience. But it was preferable to other similar experiences I've had. My own end was a whole lot easier to watch than the suffering of someone I care about; those are always worse."

When Mac falls into an uncomfortable silence, Frank graciously redirects the conversation to the earlier topic. "Do you have a favorite Christmas gone by Mac?"

"Well, I have to agree with both Trish and Laura. This one definitely deserves a spot at the top of the list, but since you're talking strictly Christmas past… 2003 was one of my favorites, and it always will be. She looks around the table and sees curious smiles on the faces of some, and a warm familiar light in her husband's eyes.

"The family court judge presiding over Mattie's case gave me permission to deliver her to Harm in the hope that everyone involved could enjoy the holiday. I remember she was nervous about his having plans; nervous that she might interrupt them or that we might not be able to find him. I told her not to worry and to come with me, that I knew exactly where to find him. She gave me a curious look; one I used to dread seeing on the faces of so many people. The look that said she was wondering about the two of us." Mac gestures between herself and Harm. "To her credit, she earned my respect in that moment. She opened her mouth, then stopped herself and said, 'Never mind; not my business.' then she grinned and told me to 'Lead the way.' I drove her to the Wall. When we got out of the car, I could see her mind working; all the question she wanted to ask were right there in her eyes. I told her I would let Harm do the honors and she nodded agreeably. I'll never forget the looks on either of their faces that night." She finishes by speaking directly to Harm. "Watching the two of you, in that moment, was one of the best Christmas gifts I ever got… or ever will get."

"Then why did you leave. You wanted to stay." He says quietly. "I could see that."

She nods. "You weren't wrong. I did want to stay. It just felt wrong. You two needed time alone. I didn't want to intrude."

"You weren't."

"You and I were in such a weird place with each other back then. I guess I was scared we would make her uncomfortable."

Harm shrugs. "Maybe, but I don't think so. She asked a lot of questions that night. More than a few were about you." He smiles and nods at Frank. "That was definitely a good Christmas… 2004 wasn't bad either."

Mac stares at him; her mouth falling open in shock. "Harm, you spent Christmas Eve 2004 sleeping in an uncomfortable chair beside my hospital bed. I was black and blue with bruises and I had that horrible airbag burn all over my face."

Laura's concern is immediate. "What happened?"

Harm grins and jokes; trying to put her at ease. "Aunt Mac's car tried to wrap itself around a tree, but she's pretty tough. Scared that poor tree half to death."

Laura frowns; confused. "Not the jeep? The red car you gave to Grandpa Frank?"

"No Baby. I was driving a car from the motor pool."

"From work?"

"Yes, that's right."

"On Christmas Eve?"

"Yes. I was coming back from somewhere."

"Why did you crash?"

"Sorry Kiddo, I still don't know. I don't remember. I took a pretty good whack to the head that night. But I'm okay now. There's nothing for you to worry about."

"What do you remember?"

"Not much. I remember the radio was annoying me, but I don't remember why. I was on the road and then I wasn't. I vaguely recall the emergency personnel getting me out of that car, but I don't remember the ride to the hospital. I remember sitting in a hospital bed. I was alone one second and the next your uncle was standing in the doorway and I was watching tightly controlled panic shift to relief in his eyes. For a second, I thought he'd fall over backwards. I asked him what he was doing there. He said the EMT's had found his name in my phone."

Harm nods. "It was maddening. They wouldn't tell me anything about your condition over the phone. All they would say was that you had been in an accident and were asking for me; calling out for me. I didn't know if you were okay or not until I found you in that room."

Mac smiles at the worried little girl. "I was okay, and your uncle stayed with me all night. I told him go home and go to bed, but he wouldn't. He didn't even go to the Wall to say hi to his dad that year. I vaguely remember him telling me that it would be okay, and that he would go next year, that his dad wouldn't mind. He was staying with me, and I should go to sleep. Every time I woke up, he was there. He had a sore back for days after sleeping in that chair… And he thinks that was a good Christmas!" Mac shakes her head in wonder.

He nods again and flashes his grin. "Yeah, I was alive, and far more importantly, so were you… and we were together. That Christmas was infinitely better than 2005 or 2006"

Laura giggles and swivels her head side to side; looking back and forth between her grandparents. "See, I told you, they don't care; they'll sleep anywhere together." She shrugs her shoulders and bobs her chin emphatically, sending everyone at the table into fits of merry laughter.


	50. Perfect?

**Chapter 50: Perfect?**

**Author's note**: Just sharing a smile… When I was a kid, I had a thing for ostentatious cartoon characters. My mother assures me that when I was three years old I was an Animal groupie; with posters of the loud inappropriate Muppet all over my bedroom walls. Although I have a TERVIS insulated coffee mug with Animal on it and he, of course, is banging on his drums, as I aged I found other heroes to worship. One of them was the Incredible Hulk. I found an image on facebook tonight that has given me a case of the giggles… The large green muscled man monster in his ripped up trousers sitting in the Lotus position; legs crossed, and hands resting on his knees, thumb and fingers pinched together and he's chanting, "Hulk no smash, Hulk no smash, Hulk no smash, Hulk… Maybe Hulk smash just a little." It just makes me happy!

* * *

Tuesday, December 25, 2007

Burnett Residence

Harm taps quietly on the door left slightly ajar and pokes his head into the guest bedroom. "There you are. What are you doing up here?"

Her back to the door, Mac smooths her skirt down with her palms and smiles at him via her reflection in a full length mirror. "I'm trying on the dress."

"The one Mom gave you?" He steps into the room, pushing the door closed behind him and admires the custom fit burgundy wine colored satin sheath that clings to and caresses her every curve as she turns to face him. "Nice… Slinky… I like!"

She smiles, laughing softly as she wraps her arms loosely around his neck and his hands find her hips. "Great, I'll tell your mother she's reduced you to what is very nearly monosyllabic communication. It came with a very nice gift certificate too." She whispers.

"For?"

"Some equally slinky undergarments."

He lightly kisses one of her bare shoulders and breathes quietly, "Thank you Mom!"

Mac leans back in his arms and laughs freely. "I'd dare you to tell her that!"

With his blue eyes throwing warm sparks he slowly shakes his head in the negative. "Uh uh, that's more Keeter's speed. Besides, she hasn't smacked me on the head in a while. I'd like to keep it that way. Well, she did throw her purse at me a couple of months ago, back in London… but she missed. Must be out of practice." He grins.

"She catches you talking like that she may not be out of practice for long."

"Don't I know it?"

"Where's Laura?"

"Downstairs in Keeter's lap at the kitchen table putting together the new puzzle she opened last night, and eating."

"Eating? Again? Harm she's going to have a stomach ache."

"Nah! Mom's supervising. She's doling it out in very small portions… actually for both Frank and Laura." He chuckles.

"What she eating this time?"

"Some of that green desert with the graham cracker crust with a cream cheese and whipped cream topping; Pistachio Delight or whatever it's called. Laura has renamed it though. Frank made it, so it's now called Grandpa's Green Stuff."

Smiling, Mac rolls her eyes. "It's absolutely sinful, but sounds a whole lot less appetizing that way."

"You tell her that. I tried. She shook her head… Nope, it's Grandpa's Green Stuff."

"I might need a couple more spoonfuls myself."

"Well you can't go downstairs dressed like this. I'll have to turn the hose on Keeter."

"Oh come on, he's not that bad."

"Oh yes he is, and to borrow from and paraphrase the admiral's words on our wedding night, 'That dress is wearing you Mrs. Rabb. Where are you going to wear this thing?"

She shrugs; eyeing him provocatively as she whispers, "Wherever you want me to."

"We should go out to dinner… Someplace nice."

"You sure we can handle that right now?" She lets go of him, slips from his arms, and retrieves her jeans from the foot of the guest bed on her way to the closet.

He watches the sway of her hips as she walks away and groans in misery. "Hell no." he mutters quietly, but not so quietly that she doesn't hear. "Maybe on the fourth, when this treatment is over. The doctor said for us to find something memorable to celebrate the occasion."

"Sounds like a plan Flyboy."

"Hey…"

She pokes her head out of the closet door and raises an eyebrow when he stops; something obviously on his mind.

"Is that going to be okay? I mean… as soon as the treatment is over? I know she said the odds of you getting pregnant even with the help were slim… But they're pumping you full of hormones to make you more fertile; right? That has to have an effect on the odds. I'm assuming it's going to take time for all that stuff to exit your system completely. She also said that if you did somehow manage to get pregnant it would be dangerous for you."

She emerges from the closet barefoot, clad only in lace and denim. Pulling her sweater back over her head, she steps close gently tugging her long hair free from the collar and he lends a helping hand; easing the soft cable knit fabric down over her abdomen.

"Squid, when this is over, if you get all nervous and protective and stop touching me, I'm going to kick your six! Don't worry about it. I've already talked to Rebecca about that. We're going to be fine. In spite of the fact that the pill does help with the Endometriosis, she wants me to take a break from even those after the treatment… Give my hormones and my body a chance to regulate themselves… Get back to normal, or at least what's normal for me. But we're taking care of that too. We have to. I can't carry a child to term. We both know that. Even so, I don't think I could live if I had to end a pregnancy. We'd be in trouble Harm. It would be unbearable; for both of us."

She rests her hands lightly on his chest. "So… Even with the nearly nonexistent odds, you and I are going to be very very careful; especially for the next month or so until things even out and I can start taking the pill again... If need be. In light of everything we're about to go through to bring a baby into this world, it feels a little ridiculous to say this, but Rebecca and I have already talked about the various other forms of birth control. This abstinence thing can't go on much longer, and you're right, we've put my egg production into overdrive; dicey combination for a woman in my position."

She pauses hesitantly. "We should probably finish this conversation at home… but…"

"But what?" he asks softly.

"I haven't discussed it with the doctor yet, but I'm not sure I want to start taking the pill again. She warned us that all these hormone injections would probably have an effect on my Endometriosis; and it has. I didn't want to complain. I still don't want to, but some days I'm pretty close to miserable, and it's getting worse. Once we know there's a baby on the way… Harm, I really think I want to have surgery; and I don't mean like before. The doctor said she couldn't keep doing that for very much longer anyway."

"I wish you'd said something… before now I mean. I didn't know you were having those problems along with all the others."

"Why?" she asks softly. "There's nothing you can do about it… Except worry and be unhappy. I don't want that Harm."

"Still Mac; I want to know this stuff."

She shrugs and tilts her head side to side. "Okay, so now you know. Now what…"

"Surgery?"

"Yeah; I think I'm ready… If it will be okay with you."

He squints. "If it will be okay with me? How would it not be okay with me? If it'll make you feel better. If it will help you…"

"You know what I'm talking about; right? When I say surgery…"

"Yeah; a hysterectomy. You've mentioned it before."

"Yes, at least a partial, but I've always talked about it in a 'someday down the road' kind of way. I'm saying now, I don't think it's that far off. I'm tired of the fight Harm… I'm tired of the pain, not to mention the other problems, and we know it would be dangerous if I did manage to get pregnant… but if you don't like the idea, I could try to hold out a little longer."

"I don't understand why you think I would ask you to do that."

She shrugs awkwardly. "Some men have a problem with this kind of thing. They think it changes a woman." She whispers, "And I don't want things between us to change. I like things the way they are…" she smiles tentatively. "So, if this is gonna be a problem…"

"Just stop!" He declares softly and shakes his head. He places both hands on her shoulders. "Boy, the things you decide to worry about…" He grins. "I don't understand everything there is to know about a woman's body… But I'm not a cave man Sarah."

"I'm not trying to imply that you are…" She shakes her head solemnly. "It's just; if it does bother you, even just a little bit… well, I kind of need to know Harm."

"Will it help you live a healthier happier life?"

She nods. "I'm pretty sure it will. Plus, if I can get by with a partial rather than the full hysterectomy, we could do this again in a few years; if we decide we want to. We could even freeze eggs. Since we're already doing this, it wouldn't be that much more trouble. It is. however, a bit pricey. As long as Rebecca thinks mine are still healthy, I think we should leave them where they are. Doesn't cost anything."

"No more pills, and maybe no more discomfort or pain, and things would be safer for us too."

She nods. "Plus, if we wait until we know Harriet is carrying, it would be convenient… or at least less inconvenient to do it now; before there's a baby in the house. I don't think recovery would go well with a newborn in the house. I've done a little bit of research, enough to know that immediately following surgery; she's going to tell me not to pick up anything that weighs more than ten pounds for at least six weeks. Hey, that's already a problem… with Laura. It won't be any better with a baby."

"Then let's mention it to the doctor the next time we're in. After we know the transplant took, and we know Harriet's doing well, we'll look at when would be best for us both to take a few days leave. Don't worry about Laura, she'll be fine. You know Mom and Frank will help out. All we have to do is ask."

He takes her by the hand, intent on leading her out of the room but he's forced to stop when she wraps her arms around him, standing rooted to her spot on the floor, and clinging to him fiercely.

"Hey…" he surrenders with a warm smile and returns the hug.

She stands still for long seconds; perfectly quiet until, at length, she whispers, "Thank you."

"I don't know why you thought it would go any differently." He rubs her back.

"Just because I want it doesn't mean it's not scary Harm. You just gave me one less thing to worry about. I don't think anybody else would've been this supportive. You didn't have to sign up for all this."

"Hey, all this is pretty wonderful from where I'm standing. It's Christmas. I'm home with my Mom and Frank; people who love me. I finally got you… Right here in my arms… And Laura's right downstairs. She's probably giving Keeter grief by now or he's giving it to her."

Mac remains still the listens intently. "I don't hear any war cries yet. They must be getting along. Even if they aren't, I'm confident your mother can handle it."

"There isn't too much the lady can't handle."

"She and Frank both… The way they've taken to Laura. They should've had a daughter. You should've had a sister. I'm sure you would have driven her absolutely crazy being the overprotective big brother…

"Hey, I've got sisters. Skates and Jen make pretty nice sisters. And Mom and Frank have a granddaughter. All the fun; a whole lot less work."

"Hmm." Mac teases. "You are aware that one of your sisters is sleeping with one of your brothers?"

Harm chuckles and shrugs. "Hey, no family's perfect."

"This one's pretty close. I still can't figure out how I managed to get invited in, but I'm glad I did." She takes his hand and leads him out of the room, down the hallway and takes the stairs two at a time down to the kitchen where they find Trish wiping down kitchen countertops.

Frank and Elizabeth Hawkes walk into the kitchen having an animated conversation about a football game on television and Jen sits in the seat beside Laura, who is still in Keeter's lap, helping to put together a puzzle; a three dimensional globe that depicts ocean life. Laura sorts through plastic puzzle pieces looking for those with similar shading or design while Keeter keeps an eye on Skates; caught up in her obvious enthusiasm.

Unaware that the little girl's focus has shifted, he's mildly surprised to find her inquisitive eyes on his face when she gently pokes him in the gut to get his attention "What you smiling about?" Laura follows his gaze, and then gives him a knowing smile. "You like her." The girl says simply.

He grins and whispers conspiratorially. "What's not to like runt? She's pretty, she's smart, she loves to fly, and obviously she loves football too."

"Is that important; liking football, I mean?"

"It sure don't hurt nothin."

"You can go watch the game too if you wanna."

"You gonna come with me, or stay here and put this puzzle together?"

"I don't have to finish it today. I'll bring Heather with me." She says referring to the doll in her lap.

Keeter nods and picks the doll up; looking it over curiously. "What's up with this? I didn't think dolls were your thing."

Laura rolls her eyes. "I don't like Barbie dolls. This is not a Barbie. Heather's special."

"Special huh. She sort of looks like she hit the wall at Talladega."

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

"Well, look at her. She's kinda cute." He flashes his grin, teasing the girl. "But she must've crashed into something. She's got this little walker and this splint on her leg looks really uncomfortable…"

He stops when he realizes that Laura is squinting at him. "What?"

"You really don't know nothin' do you?" Laura pokes him playfully; only mildly miffed. She knows he's playing but just to be safe, she snatches the doll and hugs her tightly.

"Gimme me my baby back. There's nothing wrong with her. See, she even has a little dog. Hers is brown; not black like Candy, but that's close enough. She's just like me! She's perfect! Grandma says so."


	51. Ante Up! A Friendly Wager

Chapter 51: Ante Up! A Friendly Wager

Author's note: I've been trying to post this for two days. Site issues. Some good news though... Wheelchair parts that I began the process to order last April are supposed to be here on Thursday. Cross your fingers, say a prayer, light a candle… and maybe do a rain dance too. With any luck, it might actually happen.

* * *

Friday, January 4, 2008

JLSO San Diego

1415 HRS

She peruses the document one last time for any errors or omissions, scrawls her signature in the appropriate place then hands the paperwork over to the petty officer on the opposite side of her desk. "What's next Coates?"

"You're done."

"I'm done? Fourteen minutes and forty nine seconds ahead of schedule. These days that's good; even for me."

The petty officer smiles. "If I may make a suggestion Colonel?"

"Go ahead." Mac says genially.

"This is the beginning of a big weekend for you and the captain. Don't run, but don't walk to the elevator either. Get out of here before somebody has the chance to accost you with mundane military matters. We'll hold the fort down. See you Monday Ma'am."

I'll be here it 0700 is not before. Don't let them burn the place down in my absence Coates."

"Not a chance Ma'am."

Dispensing with rank as she picks up her briefcase and cover, Mac inquires, "You use that gift certificate for The Healing Touch yet Jen?"

"Not yet. Maybe this weekend. Haven't decided for sure yet. The place is a little upscale for me; I think."

Mac chuckles with understanding. "I momentarily forgot how to breathe when she gave me mine."

"Mrs. Burnett gave you a gift certificate to the same spa?"

Mac nods. "I had an afternoon appointment on my wedding day. Good thing Harm and I can't afford the place on our own. He'd never see me again. I'd move in… permanently. I'm fairly certain she extended the same generosity to both Skates and Harriett. "

Coates nods. "The two of them I can understand. One of them will carry her grandchild. They deserve a little pampering; but why me?"

"Because you helped take care of the first one; Trish will never forget that Jen."

"I didn't do that much."

Hand on her office door, Mac chuckles as she firmly plants tongue in cheek. "No, you only moved in, acted as chaperone, adviser, friend, big sister, and part time co-parent to a delightfully headstrong, neglected teenage girl… That's all. No serious sacrifice there."

"My only regret is that the position no longer needs to be filled. I miss her… every day."

"We all do Jen. We all do." Mac smiles with compassion and nods her head, signaling for the younger woman to exit the office ahead of her.

As the petty officer returns to her desk, she murmurs discreetly, "Good luck today Colonel."

The marine nods once in silent appreciation and makes a beeline for the elevators.

* * *

Twenty two minutes later she taps quietly at the door to classroom 27-G and waits for invitation. When Mrs. Kefauver, the plump middle aged schoolteacher who is more gray than ash blonde, answers with a polite "Yes, come in please." Mac opens the door only wide enough to be seen, smiles and points to Laura; hoping to retrieve her niece with as little disruption as possible.

Laura smiles brightly when her teacher nods agreeably; dismissing her from class ten minutes early. She closes a workbook, and quickly jams it into her backpack while simultaneously quietly commanding Candy, who instantly responds with wagging tail to the familiar face at the classroom door, to 'wait.'

While the girl carefully attaches her book bag to the front of her walker by looping the shoulder straps over the small hand grips and gets to her feet; several of her classmates begin to chuckle and whisper amongst themselves. One sandy haired, buck-toothed little boy is bold enough to ask, "Geez Laura! The Marines came to get you! What did you do?"

Laura shakes her head, but before she can answer her teasing classmate, pride shining in her dark eyes, her friend Liam responds sarcastically, "At least the Marines _want_ her, Genius! I bet they'd kick you out of boot camp before lunch on the first day. " which incites a round of raucous second grade laughter.

The insulted young man hurls his eraser at Liam Harrell's head, but he misses and the slightly chewed pink editing tool lands in the basket on the front of Laura's walker.

"Okay kids; that's enough! Say hello to Colonel Mackenzie; Laura's aunt.

Mac smiles and nods politely in response to the loud unharmonious chorus of greetings and she tries not to chuckle aloud when one blue eyed little girl looks at Laura with a mix of hostile incredulity and unmistakable envy.

The blonde scowls and hisses in a loud stage whisper "Your aunt's a marine?"

Laura's smile stretches a little wider, and Mac doesn't miss the odd look that seems to be a bizarre mix of both challenge and compassion in her niece's eyes as she passes the little girl's desk without comment.

"Laura, on your way up here, bring me that eraser." The teacher instructs. "Jeremy, you can have it back when class is over."

Laura does as she's told, but she glances back at the little boy called Jeremy apologetically.

Jeremy, in turn, shrugs affably. "See you Monday Laura."

As Mac quietly pulls the door closed behind her niece, being careful not to catch Candy's tail in it, she hears a young voice ask "Why is she leaving early?"

It's Liam's voice that answers, "Because her aunt can't pick her up at regular time and she can't come to my house like usual, but Laura's okay, she's not sick or nothing. It's just for today. Principal Drew said she could miss ten minutes."

"Oh, good. Long as Laura's okay."

"Your class seems to like you." Mac comments as they move toward the end of the wide corridor.

Laura nods happily. "Most of them anyway."

Mac nods, taking a guess at who might be excluded from the group of Laura's friends. "Who's the blonde?"

"That's Jenny Chatham."

"The one who's mean to you? I thought you said that was better lately."

Laura shrugs. "Sometimes she's better; sometimes not. I don't care so much anymore."

When they reach the entrance, Mac opens the door for her and takes the end of Candy's leash in her hand. "How come?"

"I don't think she's very happy. If Liam is right then, her dad's a jerk." Laura says; stating the opinion plainly, with no evidence of malice in her voice.

As they traverse the front walk, Mac says, "That's not a very nice thing to say."

Laura shrugs again, undaunted, and declares flatly. "It's not a very nice thing to be either."

Mac starts to speak, then closes her mouth. She can't exactly fault the young girl's reasoning. "What does Liam have to say that makes you think that?"

"Liam's says that Jeremy says that Jenny's dad is in the Coast Guard because the Navy wouldn't take him. I don't know if that's true, but Jenny told Liam that she told her dad that when she grows up she wants to be in the Coast Guard, just like him. I think that's really nice of her, but she told Liam that her dad said girls don't belong in the Coast Guard, just like they don't belong in any part of the military, because girls can't hack it. He doesn't think any girl should be allowed to wear any kind of uniform. If he really did say that, then he sounds like a jerk to me. Jenny's not nice to me most of the time. He's really her other dad. She has a different last name than him, like Uncle Harm and Grandpa Frank, but he's been her dad ever since she was a baby. She picks on me because I don't know who my dad is, but she doesn't know her first dad either. I think it's stupid and mean, but maybe her other dad is mean to her. Maybe he doesn't treat her nice the way Grandpa Frank treats Uncle Harm. That doesn't seem like a very nice thing for him to say; especially not when Jenny says she wants to be just like him. If he did say that, then I feel sorry for her even if she is mean to me. There's lots of girls in the military. I don't think it's fair for him to say she's not good enough just because she's a girl. I bet you don't like it either." Laura looks up at her aunt expectantly as she offers a hand to help stabilize the girl while she climbs into the backseat of the Jeep.

"You're right. I don't think anyone should be automatically excluded based on gender alone. I think there are some people who don't belong in the military. Some of them are girls, but just as many of them are guys too." Mac fastens her niece's seatbelt and makes certain the child safety lock is engaged before she closes the rear door and then slips in behind the wheel. "If her dad does say those sorts of things to her, that is awful and I'm proud of you for showing a little empathy. It's not always easy to be nice to people who aren't nice to you."

"What's empathy?"

"Empathy means the same as understanding or compassion." Keeping one eye on the road ahead, Mac glances in the rearview mirror and watches her young niece mull this over. "Keep being nice to her… unless she does something to seriously scare or hurt you. You might be the only person who is nice to her."

Laura shakes her head. "Liam's nice to her too. She yells at him a lot. When she starts yelling, we mostly just leave her alone. Sometimes Liam yells back. I use to too, but that just makes her worse. "

Before Mac can decide what to say, Laura changes the subject. "Are we going to get Uncle Harm, or is he meeting us there?"

Mac smiles. "We're going by his office. Then he and I are going to drop you off at Grandma and Grandpa's."

"Can we go inside?" Laura inquires with enthusiasm.

"He's supposed to meet us outside, but I'll bet you two chocolate chip cookies for dessert that he won't be outside when we get there. He'll get busy, and forget to watch the time. He'll still be at his desk. We'll have to go in and get him… or we could just call him and tell him to come out." Mac teases; guessing what the girl's response will be.

Even though she loves to go inside and visit his office, Laura feels obligated to fight for her uncle. She grins. "I'll bet you three cookies he will be outside!"

When she stops at a red light, Mac reaches back and shakes the little girl's hand with enthusiasm. "You gotta deal Baby!"

* * *

Author's Note: More later tonight. I need to break for food. The muse requires sustenance. Drop a line and let her know what you think.


	52. Throwing Out the Rule Book

Chapter 52: Throwing the Rule Book Out

Author's Note: Steamboat, moles are not indigenous to the area where I live. However, I do know that they usually live underground and they're highly sensitive to light. Exactly what are they like when they become testy? I've never seen one, except for perhaps on nature shows. So, I wouldn't know a serene mole from an agitated one.

* * *

Friday, January 4, 2008

SPECWAR

1451 HRS

Mac smiles in triumph. "Sorry kiddo, looks like no cookies for you, and three for me!"

"Hey! No fair!" Laura protests in earnest.

Mac shakes her head; not easily swayed. "You said he'd be out here. He's not."

"You bet me he would still be at his desk. He's not there either. See! Here he comes now!"

Mac follows the little girl's finger and catches sight of her husband just before he pushes through the heavy glass doors and sprints for the familiar Jeep.

Opening the passenger side door, he reaches in and quickly pats Laura's knee in greeting before sliding in opposite his wife. As he offers her a quick kiss, Laura sings out from the backseat "You weren't exactly right!"

"Well, neither were you." Mac counters; chuckling.

Laura squints; wrinkles up her nose and offers hopefully, "One and a half cookies each?"

Unable to fault her logic, Mac smiles and agrees. "Seems reasonable."

Harm's blue eyes sparkle as he laughs at the two of them. "Are you two betting on dessert servings again? What is it this time? How many red lights you could catch or avoid on the way over here?"

Laura giggles. "Aunt Mac said that you would get busy and forget to watch time. That you would still be at your desk and we would have to go in and get you. I told her you would be here waiting." Laura sighs dramatically. "We was both wrong."

Enjoying the moment, Harm scowls at his wife. "You bet against me Jarhead?"

Laughter bubbles out of the Jeep's driver. "You bet your sweet six I did!"

"Hey, I'm as excited about today as you are!" He feigns insult, "I'll have you know, I've been watching the clock all day. Can I help if a two-star called just as the clock struck 1445? I got him off the phone as quickly as I could without getting my 'sweet six… " he looks pointedly at his wife. "thrown in the brig."

She nods with comical exaggeration "Excuses, excuses… Harm, I swear, you're going to be at least five years late for your own funeral."

He eyes her as if her elevator goes all the way to the penthouse, but no one's home. "And that displeases you?"

"Not expecting the witty come back, she laughs. "Good point Flyboy."

* * *

As Frank and Laura chatter, and Mac returns from her quick trip upstairs to change, she notices, not for the first time since their arrival, a peculiar look on Trish's face; as if the woman is struggling to hold something back.

"You sure you don't wanna go out honey?" Frank inquires.

While Mac eyes Trish curiously; trying to discern what's out of place with her, Laura answers Frank's question. "Na uh Grandpa. It's too windy. Too cold. Let's stay here and just watch a movie and eat popcorn."

Frank grins. "I got something called Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium, or something called Cars."

Laura giggles and bounces gently on the balls of her feet. "Definitely Cars. I love Mater. He's goofy, and he talks funny too!"

"Mater?"

"Yeah, like ta-mater. He's a tow truck!"

Harm eyes Mac's change of wardrobe. "More comfortable?"

Mac looks down at her navy blue sweats and running shoes. "Not exactly the highlight of fashion, but definitely more comfortable. Soft flexible waistband at least, though, I guess comfort is a relative thing. It all depends on how much damage the doctor does today."

"Shall we go then?"

"Not just yet. There's something on your mother's mind. I just haven't been able to figure out what yet."

Surprised, Harm turns his attention to Trish. "Mom?"

"It's nothing."

Easily persuaded, he steps toward Mac once more, but the Marine stays where she is, on the second to bottom step, as still and calm a glass of water as she eyes the older woman patiently. At length, she declares softly, "Trish, either spit the canary out or swallow him before you choke on him."

Harm's gaze volleys back and forth between the two women, at a loss, while Frank chuckles quietly. "Trish Honey, I think she's onto you. Just ask!" He encourages.

She scowls halfheartedly at her husband, and then shakes her head resolutely. "It's not… right. That's not how this is done."

Still confused, Harm raises an eyebrow. "Can I buy a vowel?" he queries dryly as he watches the light of understanding flicker into existence in his wife's dark eyes.

She smiles encouragingly. "It's okay with me Trish, if it's okay with Harm."

He watches indecision and pleasure do battle with each other in his mother's eyes. He waits another three seconds before gently demanding, "Will somebody please tell me what we're talking about?"

Mac smiles warmly at Trish and rolls her eyes in response to Harm simultaneously. "She wants to come with us… for the egg harvesting."

Caught by surprise, his gaze once more returns to his mother. "Mom?"

She smiles but shakes her head once more. "It's ridiculous. Grandparents are not supposed to be involved in the conception of their grandchildren it's just not… proper."

Mac's laughter is a lively outburst. "Oh, the hell with that! She declares, drawing looks of shock from everyone in the room. "We may as well throw the rule book out the window! Nothing about this process has been or will be typical. If it can't be typical, then why does it have to be proper? That doesn't sound like very much fun to me. We've already sucked most of the fun of it. It couldn't be more clinical. And proper or not, in this type of situation, such a request is a lot more common than you might think Trish. In fact, I think it might be one of the pluses to doing things this way. The whole family can be involved if that's what's wanted."

Trish gazes hesitantly between the two of them; still mildly uncertain.

"Look, it's not as if I'm going to be naked. It won't bother me if you're there. There's precious little about this procedure that can be construed as romantic. Harm and I have something special planned just for ourselves later this evening. You won't be intruding upon that." She waits for Harm to nod his own encouragement before she continues. Oddly enough, having extra family in the room might be one way to make this whole thing more meaningful; less sterile… less scientific." She explains further.

"When I started doing research about surrogacy, one of the first stories I read was about a girl who discovered in her teenage years that she was born without a uterus. Her mother took her to the doctor when she was 16 or 17 concerned because she hadn't yet started her period. The girl was devastated by the unexpected news. I mean, who thinks to check newborn baby girls to be certain they have uteruses. No decent parent would let doctors do that. It's just sort of assumed. Anyway, a few years later, as newlyweds, this girl and her husband began looking for a surrogate. The whole procedure was in its fledgling stage back then; just getting started. The girl's mother was only in her early forties at the time and, with only a few well-managed complications, she delivered her own grandchildren. The whole story was mildly unsettling, but also unspeakably beautiful. If people can do that, then I don't see any reason why you can't come watch my doctor stick a syringe in my belly."

She pauses, glancing at Harm, wanting him to have his chance to speak up.

When he nods, he concludes, "What's the big deal Mom? How many grandmother's get to tell their grandchild,' I saw you before you were even conceived.' He smiles awkwardly. "or at least part of you anyway?" He glances at his stepfather. "Frank? Not how we planned it, but care to join us?"

Frank shakes his head. "No thank you. If it's all the same to you, I'd prefer to wait until I can hold the baby in my arms and spoil him or her rotten. Don't ruin the magic of that first moment by showing me how we got there. Miss Laura and I will stay here together for movie night. Trish, honey, decide to stay or go before you make them late."

Mac laughs warmly and teases. "Yeah, because if I miss my appointment and have to spend even one more day, much less another six weeks, taking those stupid hormones I moving in with you. I miss life without wild mood swings, and hot flashes. Harm and I can't spend too much longer in the same house without, coffee and sex. That's just cruel and unusual! So, not to rush you or anything… " Stepping to Trish's side, Mac wraps an arm around her shoulders and squeezes affectionately, "But, for the love of God woman… Hurry up!"

"Mac!" Harm hisses. While Trish laughs.

"Well, if you sure I'm not intruding…"

"Mom, if you were, we wouldn't be inviting you. Come watch Mac's doctor do her thing. Laura calls this a science experiment, but I promise you, Dr. Frankenstein had absolutely nothing on Dr. Rebecca Thayer."


	53. An Informative Drive

**Chapter 53: An Informative Drive**

* * *

**Author's Note**: Steamboat, your answer for my last question gives a whole new meaning to the words 'whack a mole.' Around here shovels are commonly used for killing snakes and smacking aggressive pit bulls on the head; at least by those who don't see fit to leave nature to its own devices. I, myself, am a whole lot more content to leave the snake in peace and I have found that nine times out of ten, if you leave the aggressive dog alone, no matter what the breed, it will leave you alone too.

Anyhow, on with the story!

* * *

Friday, January 4, 2008

In the time it takes to make the short drive, Trish entertains herself with a casual inspection of the Jeep's backseat. She happily discovers that it's roomier, not to mention a great deal more comfortable, than she thought it would be. When that's done, she fills most of the time that's left quietly observing the pair in the front seat.

Mac stops her idle humming along with the music softly emanating from the car's stereo. She glances into the rearview mirror. "Are you comfortable back there? I would've let Harm drive. You could have had the front passenger seat."

"Don't be ridiculous darling. I told you, I'm fine here. There may actually be a little more room back here than in the backseat of my Chrysler. I confess, I was expecting something a bit more utilitarian than leather seats with individual temperature and stereo volume controls.

Mac smiles. "Welcome to the civilian version of Jeep." She turns her attention to Harm. "Did you disengage the child safety lock?"

He squints; unfamiliar with what she's talking about, so her gaze returns to the rearview mirror briefly. "We're going to have to let you out when we get to the clinic. When the safety lock is engaged, the rear doors can only be opened from the outside."

Trish chuckles softly. "That would have come in handy 40 years ago."

"Hey, I wasn't that bad!" Harm protests and flashes his grin.

"Humph!" is his mother's only reply for him. To Mac, she says, "Pull into a parking lot or a driveway and he was out of the car before it stopped moving… unless you stopped in front of the school. He didn't walk anywhere either! Sometimes he was in front of the car, or close to it, before the wheels stopped rolling."

Mac laughs. "Sounds a lot like our oldest godson. A.J. is a pint-sized human tornado; constantly in motion. I remember calling Harriet one afternoon a few years ago. She was recovering from a mild panic attack. Her toddler had slipped out of the house without her knowing about it. When she found him, he was running, as fast as his little legs would carry him, down the middle of the road; fascinated with the yellow line. He'd used a long stick to open the gate latch that he was still too short to reach on his own. Harriet threatened more than once to tie cowbells to all the house's exterior doors so he couldn't escape without her knowing about it."

"That's as bad as him." Trish points an accusatory finger at the front passenger seat. "He walked early. He started pulling up on the furniture before he was even nine months old. By ten months, he was already stable on his feet and moving; fast! And he would climb on anything! At 12 months old, I found him on top of the refrigerator. I still have no idea how he got up there. I said, 'You come down from there right now!' Wrong thing to say! He smiled at me, said 'Okay Mama.' and jumped! If I hadn't been standing right there… He was completely fearless! The thought never entered his little head that I might not have been able to catch him. Talk about blind faith! The way he trusted me was enough to stop my pulse." Two months later, I heard him laughing outside. He too, was good at slipping out of the house undetected, and it was one of those laughs that lets a mother know, 'I'm having way too much fun. You better come check on me fast because I'm up to something.' Well, Harmon was home. I don't remember why he was on the roof that day. All I remember is that he got down and went, for just a moment, to speak to a neighbor who was also outside. He left the ladder against the side of the house. So, I walked into the backyard, looked up, and nearly had a heart attack right where I stood. My baby was up there, head thrown back; the sun shining down on his little face, arms spread wide, running the ridge pole as fast as he could from one end to the other, and laughing like a loon!"

"Oh God!" comes the outcry from the driver's seat. "Trish don't tell me these horror stories; not now… unless you're trying to get me to rethink this whole 'baby' thing."

Harm reaches over and pats his wife on the knee. "Don't listen to her." He grins and lowers his voice slightly. I think she embellishes." He declares with feigned innocence; "I don't remember that at all!"

Laughing; Mac shakes her head with certainty. "Harm, don't forget how well I know you… the adult you. Just because you can't remember doing it, doesn't mean you didn't!"

"After the stunt from the top of the refrigerator, I was terrified to tell him to come down from the rooftop. I went up to bring him down myself, and he argued with me about it! He didn't want to come down. He was having too much fun… and me… I wanted to kill his father for leaving that ladder up against the side of the house where he could get to it! I will advise you now to finish this home remodeling project you're working on before my grandchild can walk; or better still, before he or she can even roll over unassisted. This is his child we're talking about! The halo this child wears will be slightly crooked; and possibly bent or dented as well…" Trish starts out laughing, but then finishes by adding softly, "I can also promise you, that you'll never regret it Mac."

Mac glances in the rearview mirror making meaningful eye contact as she takes one hand from the wheel, reaches over and caresses Harm's cheek. She assures in a hushed voice, "I already know that Trish."

Trish smiles hopefully "Maybe some of your practicality will override the Rabb adventure gene. Laura's kin to you and she's such a sensible little thing."

"Ha!" The harsh noise erupts from Mac.

"You don't think so darling?"

Mac moves the hand caressing her husband's face and extends her arm fully; putting it on display. "I've fractured this arm three times, and each time I was incredibly lucky that it wasn't any worse than a simple fracture. The first time I did it, I fell off a roof. I was older than Harm, but nobody came up to bring me down. In fact, nobody knew about it until the next morning. Well, nobody except for Eddie."

"What were you doing on the roof?" Trish inquires patiently.

"Crawling out of my bedroom window."

"Umm hmm, let me guess… you were what? Fifteen or maybe sixteen… and there was a boy involved… This Eddie?"

Taping the breaks to let another driver pass, Mac shrugs and thinks it over before responding.

"No, I was eight… but I suppose there was a boy involved; at least… after the fact.

See, it was a Friday night, or I guess maybe it could've been a Saturday night. Joe was drunk. He'd had his fill of smacking Mom around. He'd finished screaming obscenities and had moved on to sobbing and begging for forgiveness, and he was getting quiet too. I knew it wouldn't be long before he passed out. Mom was quietly doing her 'Everything's gonna be okay Joe.' routine.

It was summer in Arizona. Even after dark the heat was still oppressive. It would rain briefly later that night, but it hadn't started yet, and I felt trapped, as much by them as by the sticky humidity that made my T- shirt and jeans stick to me. I wanted out. So, I collected crumpled dollar bills and loose change from a couple of my hidey-holes, places where I stashed things I didn't want Joe to find, and I took off for Eddie's house. I figured we'd go down to the commissary together and I'd buy us a couple of ice pops.

Only, Mom yelped unexpectedly. The fight was over, but he must have broken something that night, or her injury was worse than she thought, and she must've moved too quickly and the pain caught her by surprise. The noise set Joe to yelling again, scared me, and I let go of the eave before I had a good grip on the tree branch. I landed on my arm, got up, and was headed for the front walk before I heard him trip over his own boots and scream for me to come put them away. He must've passed out before he could come looking for me.

The next morning my arm was still aching so, when I left Eddie's, I went down to the base hospital. One of the doctors called my mother. When he x-rayed my arm, he told Mom it was fractured in two places; just below the joint in my elbow, and another hairline fracture in my wrist. I told her what happened. She told Joe that I fell off my bike. He wouldn't let me ride a bicycle for two months after that, but he never knew I didn't spend the night at home."

"You didn't tell anybody about it when it happened?" Trish asks; a note of maternal pain in her voice."

"God no! My arm hurt. Big deal! I was more scared of Joe than I was of a couple of little twinges. Eddie was on his back porch in a sleeping bag. I ran all the way to his house. He must've heard me coming because, he was up, and through the screen door before I made to his back porch steps and we didn't stop running until we're sitting on the curb outside the commissary with their ice pops. Later, He gave me a pillow and a plastic sandwich bag full of ice for my arm. I fell asleep on his back porch swing listening to the old ceiling fan with its bad motor. The thing was noisy. It sounded like a rusty old bucket of bolts helicopter coming in for a landing, but I didn't care. I was safe."

"Didn't you say you broke it three times?" she asks somberly.

Mac nods. "The third time wasn't exactly a fracture. Eight years after I fell off the roof, I got really lucky and gouged my scapula."

"With what?"

"A really big chunk of gravel."

"Darling, how on Earth did you push gravel deep enough to gouge bone?"

"It happened when Christopher laid down a bike."

Trish instantly notices the horrified look her son gives his wife. Apparently this is news to him too. With uncertainty she comments, "I'm not exactly convinced that's lucky."

"She means a motorcycle." Harm says with a disturbing calm to his voice.

"Yes, I figured as much. I'll also assume that 'laying one down' is nowhere near as harmless as it's meant to sound."

Mac shakes her head and offers his mother another smile via the rearview mirror. "No, there's nothing harmless about laying an Indian down on the gravel shoulder of the road."

It's Harm who winces; not Mac. "How fast was he going? And where does a 16 year old get money for a classic bike like that?"

"Too fast; hence the loss of control. Well, that and he never did have the best reflexes. I was the better driver. Also, he wasn't 16. I was. He was almost 20; and he didn't buy it… he stole it."

Both mother and son groan with displeasure.

"By the time I finished picking gravel out of my shoulder, he had the thing back on its wheels and running. As bike accidents go, it wasn't too bad. But I still told him I'd never get on another bike with him… unless I was the one driving."

She laughs dryly; a hollow humorless sound. "He was furious when I wouldn't get back on the bike with him… Well, if I'm going to tell the truth, he may have been mad because I stood out there on the side of the road and very loudly told him 'Vy ne mozhete upravlyat' stoimost'yu der'mo' Which only made him that much more angry. He screamed at me. 'Damn it Sarah! I'm not Russian! If you're going bitch about my driving, could you at least do it in English?'

Trish watches Mac take in Harm's angry scowl with a sideways glance as she continues.

"Anyway, I told him that for somebody who wasn't Russian he seemed to understand me just fine." She giggles and shrugs with self-satisfaction; trying, without much success, to sooth her husband's ruffled feathers.

When her attitude doesn't do much to lighten his mood; she takes his hand. "I was okay Harm. Okay enough to walk about eight blocks to the nearest hospital. I knew my shoulder was messed up; only I couldn't tell exactly how bad. It felt a lot worse than it actually was and I wasn't sure I could handle the bike at that point; so I walked."

"Did he go with you?"

"No. He didn't, and that was okay. He was in a bad mood before I insulted his driving. So he wasn't the best company. And the truth is, I did it on purpose. My shoulder hurt, so I lashed out at him. He never could take criticism; especially not about his driving. It was better he left, trust me."

"I don't care what you said to him, or why you said it. He shouldn't have left you. "

"I'm telling you…" She says patiently. "I was okay… and I wanted him to leave."

"I don't care if you did want him to leave. He shouldn't have!"

"Harm, he wasn't you…" She kisses the hand in hers. "He wasn't going to stay with me and make sure I got to the hospital safely even though he was mad at me. That's something you would do."

"Mac, that's something any decent guy would do!"

"Well, I didn't have a lot of decent people in my life back then. It was a long time ago Harm. There's no point being mad about it, not now."

The flint in his stubborn jaw makes her smile. "You can't punch him in the face for it. He's dead. He has been for a long time… And you're not. I know you wouldn't leave me stranded on the side of the road, bleeding, no matter what tongue I cursed you in."

She squeezes his hand when the sour expression on his face begins to soften.

When she turns her gaze back to the road, he watches her quietly for a moment and finally smiles. "I refuse to feel sorry for the guy Mac, he should've taken better care of you, but I don't envy him either… you standing on the side of the road screaming at him… in Russian… That was a sight! I bet you were scary even before the Marine Corps got hold of you."

She smiles as if he's just paid her a compliment and switches off the car stereo. Seeking a lighter, cheerier, subject she asks; "Did you ever make it to Z in that book of baby names?

"Yeah, I did.

"Find anything good for a boy?"

"Meh… Zachary."

Mac picks up on his disinterest. "It's just as well. I don't think there's a little boy alive named Zachary who hasn't, at one time or another, been referred to with the words Zac-attack. That's almost as bad as Mac-attack."

Harm turns in his seat as much as his seat belt will allow and smiles at his mother. "She really has a problem with nicknames; which is ironic considering she lives her life using one."

"Mac just made me feel safer when I was young, and eventually it stuck. People seemed to like it, and Sarah always sounded so… fragile… to me. The last thing I wanted anyone to know was that I was fragile. No one ever said it without making me feel vulnerable and scared until you came along."

When he squeezes her hand gently she smiles and returns to the subject of baby names. "Now you can flip the book over, and go through the girl's names." Slowing for the final turn before reaching the clinic, Mac glances in the rearview mirror once again. "The book's design is unusual. Read it from one cover, and its boys' names. Flip the book over and start again from the opposite cover, and its girls' names. There are notations beside names that are considered to be unisex. Some of the names we've come across are a little bizarre; some of them even a bit scary."

"I'm okay with anything the two of you pick as long as it's not one of those ridiculous sounding celebrity baby names." Trish declares agreeably while Harm groans.

"Actually, I have a theory about that." Mac pauses for a second, trying to figure out what the absent-minded driver in the car in front of them is up to. When she can safely give them her attention again she continues. "All those ridiculous celebrity baby names; I'm guessing, or maybe I'm just hoping, that those children probably have different names. The ridiculous, yet memorable, names may be released to the public for safety reasons. I mean, the way people are about Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie, not to mention any other celebrity couple out there, if you were them… Would you want your child's name released of the public? If I'm wrong, I feel sorry for Gwyneth Paltrow's little girl… Apple. Her little brother born in 2006 was marginally better… Moses. At least that's a name; and not a fruit."

As Mac pulls into the parking lot at the San Diego Fertility Clinic, Trish observes a subtle but noticeable change in her son's posture. He's tense for some reason. She watches a silent look pass between the newlyweds. She finds that she can't decipher her son's wordless message to his wife, but she knows it's received loud and clear. Even out of context, Mac's response could not be more easily understood if she had spoken it aloud. She simply smiles and pats his thigh telling him without words; "I've got this."

Not certain she should call attention to her own presence in the moment, she simply smiles when Mac steps out of the Jeep and immediately steps back to open the rear door for her. Before she's out and straightening the hem of her blouse Harm is at her side; offering each of them an arm. "Shall we?"

* * *

**Author's Note**: I wanted to post even more, but I don't know if I'll get to finish it tonight or not. Tomorrow morning is going to be busy for me and I should probably start winding down for the day. We haven't even had dinner yet, so I'll say goodnight with the assurance that I'm already working on the next chapter. It's just that this was a better breaking place.


	54. Harm's Appointment

Chapter 54: Harm's Appointment

Author's Note: Annie, I've never heard it said quite that way but I completely understood what you meant. The French are quite right. 'Dogs don't make cats!' The U.S. equivalent would be, 'Like father; like son' or perhaps 'The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.' Either one would be interchangeable with your country's colloquialism.

To the guest reader who wrote the review that consisted of three paragraphs. Please don't apologize for the rant. I know what it is to feel passionate about the preservation of our wildlife. I completely understand why you deliberately try to frighten the deer in your backyard. If they were here, they would meet the same tragic fate if they became overly comfortable with humans. When it comes to wildlife, my mother's favorite lesson to teach is; "If you don't understand it, leave it alone!"

And now, with regard to this chapter, my goal here is to write this scene with as much class and dignity as possible; and hopefully with a little humor and romance too.

* * *

Friday, January 4, 2008

San Diego Fertility Clinic

The automatic doors slide open and they are greeted by the customary rush of cool, stale, air that smells faintly of antiseptic and emits itself from every reputable medical establishment on the planet.

Getting her bearings, Trish glances at overhead and wall mounted directional signs. Before she can ask any questions regarding their destination, Mac offers, "We still have about half an hour before my appointment Trish. Harm and I are going to need just a few minutes to ourselves before then."

She smiles when his mother nods and then hands over a folded $10.00 bill from her pocketbook. "The cafeteria is it that way." She points. "Let us buy you a really bad cup of coffee. If you want, you can probably buy something to read in that gift shop over there." She nods her head sideways in the appropriate direction. "We'll be up on the fourth floor, but I'll be back down in less than fifteen minutes and then we'll go sign me in. Will you wait for us down here?"

In reply, Trish removes a book from her own handbag and steps in the general direction of the cafeteria. "See you soon." She smiles and waves as the couple steps into an elevator.

* * *

Upstairs, on the fourth floor, they thank the nurse who discreetly points them in the direction of room eight where they are told Harm will find everything he needs already waiting for him.

They approach hand in hand until he stops short of crossing the threshold of the appointed room. "Okay." He smiles and says in a hushed voice. "I think I'm on my own from here."

"Is there some reason you have to be? It doesn't all have to be so clinical you know." She whispers warmly.

"Maybe not; but this part does."

Stepping as close as she dares in public, she rests a hand on his chest and breathes quietly "Really? You sure about that?"

"Yes."

She smiles. "Fast answer. You got a girlfriend stashed in there Flyboy?"

He chuckles; shaking his head. "Nope."

She acquiesces. "But you don't want me in there?" She questions; not needing to hear the answer.

"No." he says softly and flashes another smile.

"Why not?" she teases.

"A few reasons…"

"I'm listening…"

He touches her face, and enjoys the feeling of her leaning into his caress. "First" he whispers, "I can't do this with you watching me."

"You can't… are you sure?" She flirts. I could help; you know."

His blue eyes sparkle with laughter accompanied by the slow burning embers of pleasure. "You already are helping; but beyond this, no, I'm afraid you can't."

She pouts. "Why not?"

"One, you have to go back downstairs. You told Mom you'd be up here for less than fifteen minutes. I can't believe neither one of us thought about this, when we invited her to come along. Two…" he runs the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. "You're not supposed to be… getting excited… at least not for a few more hours anyway."

She raises an eyebrow seductively. "And you think this would… Excite me?"

"I do."

"Pretty confident there Squid."

"Please don't take this the wrong way Sarah…" He breathes tenderly. "But exciting you has never been a difficult thing to do… and lately… I don't even have to try."

She tries to remain serious, to offer some form of objection, but she can't even keep a straight face. Giving in, she wraps her arms around his waist, buries her face in the curve of his shoulder and laughs. "Yeah, I know. I can't help it!"

"I know."

"If all these stupid hormones ever filter out of my system, you might actually have to make an effort again."

"I'll look forward to it."

"Like me better that way? Calmer; less excitable, when the irrepressible urge to molest you doesn't strike in aisle six of the grocery store?"

"Not what I meant. I don't mind having you this way either. I just meant you're worth the effort… always…whether the effort is to get you to behave… or to get you not to."

She smiles and holds him tightly. "Harm, there's part of me that still can't believe we're doing this. It still feels like a dream. Thank you."

Rubbing her back, he returns the embrace. "You don't have to thank me."

"I know." She murmurs. "That's why I did."

She's slow to do it, but eventually she lets go of him. She stays close long enough to breathe against his ear. "I have to go now. The lingering scent of your aftershave is about to get me into trouble." She places a feather light kiss against the pulse point in his neck and quietly slips away.

* * *

Author's Note: My apologies for the pitifully short length. The battery in my headset is dying. I must have forgotten to charge it last night. I'm plugging it up now. Give it a few hours to charge, and I'll be back at it again. Hopefully this will tide you guys over until I can post more.


	55. Mac's Appointment

Chapter 55: Mac's Appointment

Author's Note: his chapter has been very uncooperative! Last week I upgraded from Microsoft Office 2007 to 2010. I'Tm still getting used to some of the differences. Despite auto-save, I have managed to completely delete this chapter, not just once, but twice before getting to this point. If there are errors or typos, I will fix them tomorrow. I just can't look at it anymore right now. I hope you like it, because I've just about had my fill of it! And, as always, thank you for reading and reviewing.

* * *

Friday, January 4, 2008

San Diego Fertility Clinic

On the sixth floor, and hoping he's in the right place, he pushes through a door and leaves a waiting area behind. A bright eyed nurse in pink scrubs looks up from her work behind the counter to his left with curiosity in her gaze, and then offers a warm smile of greeting to the tall man in Navy dress.

"My wife is back here somewhere; I think. Sarah Rabb?"

She nods and points him in the general direction. "Room three. It's just up around the corner on the left."

As he nears said corner, a familiar raven-haired nurse passes by on her way elsewhere and greets him enthusiastically. "Hello Captain. Tell Sarah we'll be with you in less than five minutes."

"Thanks Marisol."

When he makes the turn he finds the door to room three clearly marked and his wife stepping out of a wide doorway across the hall. "Hey, I know you!" He teases; flashing his grin.

She meets him in the center of the wide corridor and takes the hand he offers. "I certainly hope so!" She smiles. "If you don't, then it sure makes meeting you here seem odd."

"Should you be doing that?" He tilts his head toward the restroom door she just exited as it swings slowly closed behind her; stalled on its hinges to keep from endangering slow moving patients who may not be steady on their feet. "I thought the doctor said a full bladder was best for ultrasound clarity?"

Nodding, Mac shrugs and offers quietly. "What she wants most is for me to be very well hydrated so the bowel is clear and won't obstruct the image. Besides…" She jokes. "I was nearing critical mass. Rebecca's got approximately twenty minutes before I have no choice but to do that again."

"Need more water?"

She shakes her head adamantly. "Please no! I got a little carried away with the water. In the last 2 ½ hours I've had about sixty-four ounces; and your mother just gave me a big bottle of grapefruit juice from the cafeteria. If I drink anything else you'll have to stop halfway between here and home."

"I just bumped into the nurse. She says less than five minutes."

"Good. Maybe we can get this over with before my next mad dash."

Before they step toward the door of exam room three, she lowers her voice to an even more discreet decibel. "Everything go okay?"

He shrugs. "Didn't get any complaints."

She smiles and steals a quick kiss as she pulls him along with her. "Imagine that!" she whispers with a touch of sass.

As she enters the exam room she adjusts her tone to one less intimate. Smiling at Trish, who sits, reading her book, in the room's only chair, she announces, "Look who I found out in the hall."

"She did not!" He counters playfully when his mother smiles at him. "I found her!"

Mac rolls her eyes but smiles anyway as she settles back against the edge of the examination table. Intent on sliding backward to a more comfortable position, she changes her mind halfway through and reverses direction, allowing both feet to return to the floor. She stands and concentrates on separating the hem of her sweatshirt from the hem of the T shirt beneath it. As she attempts to remove the former while holding the latter in place, Harm steps forward placing his hands around her waist; firmly anchoring the T- shirt in place to make things easier for her.

"Are you sure you wanna do that? It's a bit cool in… here." He pauses as he notices color rising in her neck. At first, it's nothing more than a faint blush but the color deepens; changing rapidly to that of harsh sunburn before it begins coloring her face as well. Just the light caress of his fingertips against the delicate flesh of her neck and the warmth she radiates surprises him. "Okay, never mind… Your thermostat's gone wonky again."

"Yes, it has." She sighs with resignation.

"Anything I can do for you?" he asks sincerely.

Fanning the air beside her own face; she shakes her head in the negative and then replies irritably, "Stop touching me!" only to add a bit more softly, "At least until the broiler decides to turn itself off again."

He takes a step back as she settles herself once more atop the short exam table; knees bent, feet crossed at the ankles and swinging slightly. However, in spite of her most recent complaint, he's not at all surprised when she reaches out, hooking a single finger behind the top button of his shirt and gently pulling him closer only to let go of him as if touching him were unpleasant. He resists the urge to shake his head or laugh. In recent weeks he's gotten use to this kind of contradictory behavior. She doesn't want to be touched in these moments… She just wants him close.

It takes a moment for either of them to notice the amusement in Trish's eyes as she leaves her seat and hands Mac a ½ empty bottle of grapefruit juice.

The marine removes the cap and takes a long pull from the cool bottle as she raises an eyebrow. "What? What are you laughing about?" she asks drawing a curious look from Harm as well.

"I'm not laughing… Not really darling."

"Yes you are! You're just very nice about it."

"You two are very entertaining."

She shakes her head in response to their puzzled expressions. "You squabble like brother and sister… She did not! I found her!… Stop touching me! You sound like a couple of five year olds. You also protect each other the same way… Ferociously; just like brother and sister. Earlier Mac, when you told of that motorcycle accident; he was ready to do battle. You hold hands and flirt like teenagers, and you fuss and fret over one another like a little old couple married more years than they've lived apart."

Trish finally does laugh out loud when the couple exchanges yet another odd look. It's Harm who shrugs and Mac who answers, "We've always been this way." Before they finish in unison, "Well, almost always."

Not one of them is aware that the door has opened until Rebecca Thayer speaks, calling attention to herself and interrupting Trish's laughter. "I wish I found all my patients waiting for me this happily."

She offers her hand to Trish. "Dr. Rebecca Thayer."

Stifling her laughter, she responds in kind. "Trish Burnett. I'm his mother." She smiles and nods her head sideways; indicating her son.

"Oh good!" the statuesque blonde smiles enthusiastically. "I like to meet all my babies' family members."

"Yes, well Laura has talked about the _science experiment_ so much until I just wanted to see part of it for myself… as long as I'm not in the way?"

The doctor shakes her head. "Goodness no! They brought you along, so obviously they don't think you're in the way. I welcome grandparents. If you get in my way, I'll nudge you… easy enough."

As she talks, she looks her patient over, holds up a finger, and pokes her head through the door momentarily. "Marisol?" she calls hoping her assistant is near enough to be heard without shouting or leaving the room to go and find her.

"Yes, I'm coming… Just two shakes…" Comes the patient reply from the obviously busy nurse.

"Before you do, see if you can find Sarah an ice pack, a snow cone, or maybe a nice cool igloo in Alaska somewhere." The doctor calls out with equal parts mirth and urgency. "She's roasting in here!"

While they wait, the doctor washes her hands thoroughly in the room's sink, dons gloves and then motions without words for her patient to get more comfortable.

Mac slides backwards a few inches on the table before reclining, lifting her shirt and loosening the drawstring in her sweatpants to expose her abdomen for a quick physical examination.

The doctor gently palpitates one side of Mac's lower abdomen and then the other; paying careful attention not only to what she feels, but also to her patient's facial expressions and mood as she carefully searches for any sign of abnormality.

More comfortable with maintaining eye contact, than watching the doctor's movements, Harm smiles at his wife and offers her his hand to hold; temporarily forgetting about the no touching rule but quickly recovering when she scowls at him comically and gently swats his hand away.

"What's this all about?" The physician asks; smiling at a couple curiously.

Mac grimaces. "Under normal circumstances, I'm usually the one who's cold. I swear his resting body temperature is normally 3° higher than mine; which usually works well for the two of us. Typically, he keeps me warm. He's hot! He always has been. But right now, my hormones are attending some Bacchanalian orgy without my consent or participation. I'm melting from the inside out… and he wants to touch me!"

Rebecca Thayer chuckles quietly and continues her work as Marisol slips into the room closing the door behind herself with an elbow. Ice pack in hand, the nurse gently plops it on Mac's chest just; below her neck.

Mac relinquishes the bottle of juice to Trish's waiting hand and repositions the ice pack to better suit herself as she moans in gratitude. "Marisol you're a… god…" Mac stalls briefly as a sudden, unexpected, reaction to pain registers on her face.

The young nurse smiles and announces with pluck. I'd prefer goddess… but you're welc… Hey, that wasn't on purpose; was it?"

"No, it wasn't." The doctor answers calmly for her patient.

Even more gently than before, her fingers repeat their last movement; as Harm's shoulders stiffen and Trish instinctively places a hand on Mac's shoulder. "Sarah, is it worse when I press in, or when I let go?"

With all their levity fleeing the room faster than any one of them can blink, Mac concentrates diligently. After a weighted pause, she answers, "I can't tell for sure which is worse… The rebound pain I think, but neither one is pleasant."

"Okay, everybody relax. Let's just have a look before anyone panics." The doctor says with a bright smile. She reaches for the wand on the nearby ultrasound machine and by the time she realizes that the machine needs to be repositioned Marisol is already attending to it.

Mac jumps slightly and involuntarily inhales in response to the cold gel the doctor squirts on her firm belly.

"Sorry, this stuff is cold even for people who aren't in the grip of a killer heat wave." She uses the electronic wand to help spread the gel around while Marisol goes from repositioning machine to turning it on.

"It's okay. The power surge is starting to subside." Mac says while making an effort to stay calm as she notices the bright blue of her husband's eyes and the worrisome set of his jaw. He's scared. She tries a smile and reaches for his hand.

"Should I step outside?" Trish inquires quietly.

Mac reaches for the hand still resting on her shoulder and holds on tightly.

Understanding the unspoken message, Trish stays where she is as images begin to flicker and flutter in and out of focus before finally becoming clear on the ultrasound display screen.

Everyone stares at the screen, though more than half of the room's occupants don't really know how to interpret what is seen there.

"Uh huh…" The doctor murmurs more to herself than to anyone else after an interminable moment. "Just what I thought."

"What?" Harm demands tensely.

Rebecca Thayer holds up a hand; silently asking for their patience. "Hold on. Just let me… check the other side. She draws her words out, slowly and calmly as she moves the wand to the opposite side of Mac's abdomen. They all hold their breath until she has a good look, sees what she wants, and then double checks twice just to be certain before she speaks.

At length, she smiles at her patient. "Good girl. We're still in business." She makes eye contact with both Harm and Trish. "I knew we weren't going to get through this without at least a few hiccups. I just found the first one, but it's nothing that can't be remedied. Sarah is okay… And we can still proceed as planned." The doctor grins facetiously. "She's just growing a really impressive ovarian cyst over here on the left."

Trish relaxes almost completely while Harm's tension eases only marginally.

Mac touches his face. "I'm okay Harm." She tries to soothe him. "We talked about this. It's a common side effect with fertility drugs and hormones like the ones I've been taking. Most ovarian cysts are benign and can be treated without surgery." She squeezes his hand and let's go of Trish's as she looks to her doctor for confirmation.

The woman nods. "Fortunately, only the left ovary is affected. You're not bright pink anymore either. If you've recovered from that hot flash, we can harvest from the right. If we get enough to attempt fertilization, we'll stop the hormones immediately. If not, we'll at least let you have a break from them while we treat the cyst, Then… We'll try again… but before we worry about that, let's see what we can pull from the right ovary today. With any luck, this phase could still end today."

Mac waits for Harm's reply, wanting to encourage him, but sensing at the same time that she needs to let him come to it on his own. He's silent for a long moment before he faces the doctor. "It's still alright to do this today?"

She nods. "It is. It's even advisable that we at least try. The sooner we do the harvest, the sooner she can stop the injections. That's what caused this. It won't get better unless she stops."

"And doing the harvest today, or at least trying to, it won't make things worse over there on the other side?"

"She's not going to be any less uncomfortable, but no, there isn't an increased risk that harvesting from the right would cause a greater problem with the left." She smiles patiently. "Right now, the cyst appears manageable; without surgery. The longer we wait, the more uncomfortable she will get. We can't leave the cyst untreated, and she can't take the hormones while treating it."

"You want to give it a try; don't you?" he asks quietly.

Mac nods, her dark eyes pleading with him. "If it works, this could all be over. I'll take some birth control pills if stopping the hormones isn't enough, the cyst will shrink and dissipate, and we could move on to the next step; but if you need a few minutes to think about it, I'll sit right here and wait."

He's quiet for a bit longer.

"The longer we put her through this, the smaller our chance of success gets; correct?"

"There's some variation with every patient, but yes, and that's the general trend. Success, when it happens, usually happens early."

Trish watches the two of them as they watch each other; carrying on a conversation no one else hears. She marvels at the obvious connection; the bond between them and smiles when at last her son nods his consent.

Mac offers him a sweet kiss before nodding for the doctor. "Okay, we're in, but do your best work Rebecca. Talking him into doing this again… That's not going to be easy."

She hugs him tightly while she can; only letting go of him when she's forced to. She lies back again and watches the nurse prepare the large gauge syringe. She listens intently as her doctor instructs her calmly and patiently to take slow, shallow breaths during the procedure; in through her nose and out through her mouth with a three second pause between an exhalation and the next inhalation. Focusing on that will help her through the procedure. She shouldn't talk or move at all. It's okay for Harm or Trish to talk quietly to her, but they shouldn't expect a response.

She closes her eyes, and focuses on the sensation of their hands; she feels the gentle pressure of her doctor's fingertips clad in latex against the tender flesh of her abdomen; Harm's warm strong fingers laced with hers, and his other hand gently caressing her face; Trish's softer, but equally strong, and reassuring touch still resting in its place on her shoulder.

For the first time since childhood, she tunes in and deliberately listens to the ticking clock inside her head, and she begins to count. She will count the seconds until it's over. However, unlike those dark moments in her childhood, this time she's waiting for something good to happen...and this time she's not alone.


	56. Laura's Opinion

Chapter 56: Laura's Opinion

Author's Note: After the seriousness of the last few chapters, not to mention that of upcoming chapters. I thought a quick visit with Laura might be in order. This chapter was inspired by recent conversations I've had with Byrthhelm. Thanks for feeding the muse!

* * *

Friday, January 4, 2008

Burnett Residence

Dinnertime

Trish precedes Harm and Mac through the front door and she's pleased when she smells dinner in the oven. "I know you two have plans, but come in long enough to say goodnight to Laura. I'm sure she will be overflowing with questions."

Leaving the foyer and heading for the living room, she is surprised that they are not greeted by anyone other than Laura's dog.

Even Candy isn't overly enthusiastic. Upon hearing car doors close outside, the dog had opened her eyes and rose from the large pillow where she was napping to go investigate; compelled to make sure the new arrivals were worthy of entry. She ambled slowly across the living room, and poked her head through the archway into the foyer.

When she sees friendlies entering the house, she softly thumps her tail against the door frame twice before she slowly pads back to her pillow with every intention of reclaiming the nap they interrupted.

Realizing she doesn't hear the television, Trish starts to call out. "Frank? Laur…" She stops short when she steps into the living room and sees Laura curled up in her husband's lap; the two of them sound asleep in his favorite chair.

She holds a finger to her lips for Harm and Mac's benefit before she tiptoes into the room and covers the two of them with the plaid throw blanket kept draped over the back of the sofa. She slowly and very carefully removes a dusty smelling book from Laura's grasp and places it on the end table beside his chair on top of the tall stack of books waiting there.

Leaving the room on silent feet, she shoos Harm and Mac down the hall to the kitchen. "They've been up to the attic." She says in a hushed voice. "They found some of your old books." She tells her son. "Looks like they wore themselves out digging through old boxes. You two want coffee?"

Harm shakes his head while Mac declines saying, "No, not tonight." which draws a look of surprise from him.

"What? I haven't had more than two cups in the last six weeks. The first 4 ½ were Hell on Earth. I'm finally starting to get used to it. Don't get me wrong, I'm going to have a nice big cup tomorrow morning and I'm going to enjoy it immensely; but I think I'm going to try and limit myself from now on. God forbid we should have to do this again, but if we do, I don't want to face another caffeine withdrawal like the last one. No more drinking coffee like its water, not if I can help it, and definitely not before somebody's pregnant."

"I thought you quit completely when you started the hormones." Harm questions.

That was the plan. I had a few really bad days of the office. I threw up the white flag a couple of times. Trouble was, I'd enjoy the first few sips and then I'd feel guilty and dump the rest. It was depressing; reminded me of the times I tried to quit drinking before Uncle Matt stepped in. Didn't like that, and don't want to go back to that."

Trish nods offering support as she opens the oven door to check on dinner. "I don't envy you. I'd be in trouble if I had quit coffee. If you think you've got it under control now, don't give that up just because you can."

"We'll see. I'm certainly going to try. The worst of it's over now… At least I think it is. What smells so good?"

"Meatloaf and sourdough bread," Trish answers closing the oven door. She removes a packet of vegetables from the freezer as Laura saunters into the kitchen and removes two books from the small basket on the front of her walker and places them on top of the bar before she carefully climbs onto a bar stool and slouches sleepily.

"Hello darling."

Laura yawns and opens both books, resting them side by side on the counter, as she responds to her grandmother. "Hi. I didn't hear when you came in." The little girl reaches for Harm; seeking a hug, and he obliges eagerly.

"You were sleeping. Good thing the oven is set low."

"Grandpa said it would be okay." She shrugs and yawns; unconcerned

"What have you got there? Mac asks, stepping close enough to see for herself.

"Uncle Harm's old books. Well… some of them. There's lots!"

Mac lifts the cover of one book. 'The Wind in the Willows.' I read this. It's about a little mole; if I remember correctly. And what's this one? 'Biggles and the Prince of Arabia.' I don't think I've read that one."

"It's a book about a fighter pilot and his adventures. There's a bunch of books about him I think, 'cause there's like 50 of them in the attic."

Mac smiles warmly. "I can see your uncle reading something like that. That's not hard to imagine that all."

"There are more than just what I had in the series… Somewhere around 100 I think. I didn't have the whole set, but I think I got close. Mom obviously still has the ones that survived my childhood."

Laura eyes her uncle curiously. "Survived?"

Trish smiles at the girl and nods vigorously. "He read some of them so many times that they literally fell apart. He even set fire to one of them."

Aghast, Laura scowls at her uncle. "You burn books?"

"Of course not Sweetheart. Not on purpose anyway."

"He was a few years older than you are now. He removed the light fixture from a bedside lamp and put it under the covers with him. He fell asleep and burned the book and nearly himself!"

"Uncle Harm! You're supposed to use a flashlight!

He flashes his grin. "Yeah, I know. She took my flashlight away from me." He points an accusatory finger at his mother.

Laura turns her attention to Trish "Why'd you do that?"

"It was late darling, and a school night too. I wanted him to go to sleep. It never occurred to me that he might take the lamp apart or nearly set himself on fire. Please don't do that, okay?"

Laura shakes her head adamantly. "I won't. I don't wanna catch fire! Ouch! Na uh, not me. No way!" For a moment, she looks at Harm as if she thinks he might be looney tunes. "You know, that wasn't a very smart thing to do." She says with extreme seriousness.

"Yeah, I know, I didn't do it again…"

"Bet not. That must've been scary."

He smiles and whispers loudly. "It was… But it wasn't half as scary as my mom screaming at me; telling me she'd never let me read another book as long as I lived."

Laura's eyes go wide with dismay. "That might be worse than catching fire! I love my books."

He pats her shoulder. "She got over it eventually. But she wouldn't let me read in bed for a long time after that."

Laura passes a look between the three adults trying to imagine what it would be like not to be allowed to read in bed. After a few seconds of heavy silence, she shakes her head as if trying to rid her mind of unpleasant thoughts. Moving on to more pleasant things, she turns to her grandmother. "Is dinner almost ready?"

"It is. Let Grandpa sleep for another ten minutes, then go wake him up!""

"Okay." Laura says enthusiastically, finally shaking off the last remnants of sleep as the though of food and something else occurs to her. "Hey, what are you guys doing here? I thought you were going on a date."

Mac pushes her bangs out of her face affectionately. "We are. We had to drop Trish off first. We'll be leaving very shortly."

"What did the doctor say?" Are we getting a baby or not?"

"We're one step closer. The doctor was able to get what she needs. Now we just have to wait and see if she can make it happen. If she does, Miss Harriett will be back for another visit sometime soon."

Laura shakes her head solemnly. "This is taking too long. I want the baby now!"

Harm chuckles. "You think it's taking too long? Hang in there kid. Me...I was ready to do this eight years ago!"

* * *

Author's Note: I know it was short, but this little scene has been in my mind for a couple of days now. However, I'm so tired that my eyes feel like they have sand in them. I'm going to sleep for a little while, but rest assured, the next chapter is already shaping itself in the dark recesses of my mind. More soon…


	57. Table for Two?

Chapter 57: Table for Two?

* * *

Author's Note: Annie, I too have seen the sunrise many times over because I couldn't put down a book until I was done, and no matter how good the ending is, I'm always disappointed when it's over because there's nothing more to read. My visit with the characters within is over. Maybe that's why I like series as much as I do. I have a few favorites and the characters become almost like distant relatives that you visit with, cherish, and then leave behind until the next visit. When I finish a book, I console myself with the notion that I'll just have to kill another year while the author writes the next installment.

Last summer I read 'W is for Wasted by Sue Grafton.' While I love the series, I'm going to have to start all over again after she makes it to Z. Otherwise, I'm going to miss Ms. Milhone once she finally solves her last case.

Since Patricia Cornwell married, the Scarpetta series just isn't what it used to be. Kay, her protagonist, has changed and not for the better. I own the series up to and including 'Port Mortuary.' However, I was so disgusted with it. I haven't bothered to spend the money on the rest. I did read Red Mist courtesy of the library, but I hated it. I also read The Bone Bed. It was a long-needed improvement; her first decent book in years, in my not so humble opinion. I've yet to read the latest two, 'Dust' and 'Flesh and Blood.' I didn't realize I was two books behind until just now; when I checked Cornwell's website. Time for a trip to the library; maybe. Gotta talk to my gal pals and see if either book is worth the walk to the other side of town.

* * *

Friday, January 4, 2008

Rabb residence

Sometime after 2100 HRS

His body still warm with pleasure, Harm's mind gradually, returns to the world inside their bedroom. He'd been lost in his desire for her. Now, she's still, she's quiet, and her breathing is rhythmic. She must be asleep. The ceiling fan overhead turns slowly; creaking softly. From this distance, the tumbling ocean waves outside are little more than a whisper.

'We never even made it to the front door.' He muses to himself wryly.

"Something wrong?" her hushed words are a tender surprise.

He rolls onto his side and folds himself around her; cradling her back against his chest as he chuckles quietly. "I thought you were asleep. No, nothing's wrong."

He runs the palm of his hand over the rumpled satin that still covers her hip and she places her hand over his; reveling peacefully in the feel of his touch.

"Well something's on your mind." Her quiet words are neither a question nor an accusation; just a simple statement of fact.

He shifts slightly, resting his head in the palm of his other hand as he looks down at his own body and his own badly rumpled clothing. "We're kind of funny; you and I."

"We're funny?"

"Sure we are. Married more than four months, and we still haven't managed to do something as commonplace as going out to dinner alone together in public."

She giggles softly. "I know. Who'd have thought dinner for two at a nice restaurant would be such a hard thing to accomplish."

"Disappointed?"

She turns in his arms and eyes him as if he's asked her an utterly ridiculous question. "How could I be?" She smiles like the cat who swallowed the canary and found great satisfaction in it.

"Still, I'm beginning to think you and I have some sort of obscure problem with the typical date. "

She shrugs wholly unconcerned and begins idly playing with one of the loose buttons on his open shirt front. "Who cares. I used to think going out on a date with you would be fun. I still do, I haven't changed my mind; it's just that staying home with you can't be beat. If we never go out, that'll be just fine as long as all our evenings alone together begin the way this one did."

"You sure? I got a bit carried away; I think. Too carried away to even bother getting undressed. "

She gently touches his face and declares in a whisper, "If that was you getting carried away… you should do that more often."

"Hmm… and see, I thought you liked me being… attentive."

"Oh I do! I'm not saying stop… Please don't ever stop… Just, sometimes it's okay to focus on what you want."

"I do! Every blessed time! But that's all I was thinking about tonight Mac."

Gently teasing him, she arches an eyebrow. "Yes, I know."

Laughing, he declares, "It's your fault! You walked in here wearing this dress. I swear I was going to behave like a gentleman, but then you brushed past me."

She tries to bite back her own laughter. "And the gentleman in you got clobbered by a neanderthal… just that easily?"

"Hey I plead the fifth! You should never have gotten within arm's length. Not before we made it out the front door."

She nods with a comically sarcastic look on her face. "It's all my fault because… you could reach me?"

"Yes!" he declares with vigor. "If you're going to wear dresses that fit like a second skin and are fashionably worn with next to nothing underneath, then you should stay at least an arm's length away. Otherwise, I just get… sidetracked."

"Hmm… I think, if this dress hasn't been damaged beyond repair, I'll keep it. If for no other reason, just so I can sidetrack you whenever I want. And for the record counselor, I've never minded being within an arm's length of you. I kinda like it when you can reach me."

"Except for when you're having one of those crazy hot flashes? " He teases.

"Even then. I don't mind being close enough to touch, I just don't want you to actually do it. Not then. Hopefully those crazy hot flashes are over with now, or at least they soon will be. I hope she got enough. I hope it works. I don't wanna do that again, not if it can be helped Harm. That was not fun; not at all!"

He tries to snuggle a little closer. When it can't be managed, he holds her just a little tighter until he finds himself suddenly worried. He loosens his embrace marginally as he asks, "How's your belly? Still sore?"

She nods. "It'll be worse tomorrow. And the bruise that's still surfacing will be nasty looking by then."

He frowns. "She bruised you?"

"Couldn't be helped. She tried to be gentle. But I bruise badly just getting blood drawn. This was a bit more prolonged."

"And I come home and pick tonight to throw you into bed…"

"Throw is a bit harsh. I may have been hauled into bed, or maybe even manhandled. But I wasn't thrown."

"Did I hurt you?"

"If you had, you would've known it. You weren't that far gone."

He flashes his grin. "You sure about that?"

"Positive, I was perfectly safe; in no danger at all."

"Well, I may not have hurt you. But we've definitely missed our reservation. You'll be getting hungry soon."

"Are you kidding? I'm already famished. Have we got anything to eat in the kitchen?"

He nods. "Cupboard's not bare yet, but it's getting close. We have to go to the grocery store this weekend." He sits up. I can throw something together tonight, and there are eggs and biscuits for breakfast."

"Okay… maybe in half an hour. "

"I thought you were famished?"

"I am, but we're taking a shower first."

"Oh we are, are we?"

"Uh huh, we are." She leaves the bed and reaches for his hand as she heads for the master bath.

Following willingly, he begins to shrug out of his wrinkled shirt. She turns catching him halfway through the act, and stops him with gentle hands.

Confused, he raises an eyebrow. "Sarah, rolling around in bed with half of our clothes still on might be fun sometimes, but I don't think the same rule applies to the shower."

"Oh, I know that." She says in a sultry voice. "But if you don't mind, I'll undress you myself."

He nods and tilts his head slightly; catching on. "It's your turn now; is it?"

"It is..."


	58. The News They've Been Waiting for

Chapter 58: The News They've Been Waiting For

* * *

Author's Note: Long note tonight. Some of you may have to bear with me. The author's note included with Chapter 57 got a lot of feedback. I feel duty bound to respond, but before I do….

Dear readers, fans, and critics, some of you have proven to be very intuitive in realizing the amount of research, time, and energy that go into this little creation and you have expressed your appreciation for my efforts. I am grateful beyond words for your kindness. Because staying true to reality with this work is a personal goal of mine, I greatly appreciate it when one of you kindly contacts me to let me know that I've made an error somewhere along the way. This allows me to fine tune things.

However, for those few readers who are more critic than fan, and only see fit to contact me anonymously, and I might add, very passive-aggressively when you find a minor error of very little consequence… please insert the sound of me blowing a raspberry here!

For those of you who are now scratching your heads in confusion because you have no idea what the previous paragraph was about, my apologies. In the interests of disclosure and accuracy, it is incumbent upon me to tell you that I have been informed that… I goofed again.

With all the other much more in depth research that this particular piece of fiction requires, it didn't even occur to me to verify Christina Pickles height before writing chapter 53. I didn't even intend to mention her height when I began writing the chapter. It just kind of happened. That does occur when I hit my stride while writing. I mean really, how many women do you personally know who are even 5 foot 10 much less taller? I know it's not impossible. It is, however, exceedingly rare to find a woman six feet tall!

So, for the record, according to information I found on the Internet last night after receiving the aforementioned review, Christina Pickles is reported to be two inches taller than Catherine Bell. To that end, the sentence about Mac needing more legroom in a vehicle than Trish has been removed from chapter 53.

Cheese and crackers! You'd think I was being paid for this. Actually, I'm kinda glad I'm not. If I were, I'm sure some know-it-all busybody would come along and suck all the fun out of it!

And now, on to the lighter stuff…

Steamboat: Why thank you kind Sir. As far as I'm concerned, calling me wicked is high praise indeed. Rita Mae Brown said, 'Lead me not into temptation; I can find the way there all by myself.' While I agree with the lady - I don't need any help getting there either - I still like to take other people along for the ride whenever possible!

Annie: You make me smile. Yes, Mac was definitely more vocal about her displeasure over the whole abstinence thing than Harm was, but honestly, when isn't Mac more vocal than Harm. I think the woman likes to make noise. He may not have said as much, but he didn't like it any more than she did. He had to let her know that…In his own way, of course.

(There may be some Scarpetta related spoilers in the next few paragraphs. Read the rest of this author's note at your own discretion.)

Also for Annie: Ordinarily, I completely agree with you. When an author starts resurrecting characters, it's usually a bad sign. Leave the dead buried; they'll just stink up the joint! That having been said, my introduction to Kay Scarpetta began with 'Point of Origin' the book in which Benton Wesley 'died.' My librarian recommended the book to me based on her knowledge of my own reading preferences. She mentioned in passing that it was part of a series. When finished the book, I took it back to the library and informed her when she asked me how I liked it "I don't want any more of these books! She killed my favorite character! She murdered him! "

Needless to say, the mild mannered librarian was a bit shocked, and it took her some doing to get me to agree to read Postmortem (book one) after that. And yes, I know I'm not among the majority here, on various Scarpetta fan-based web sites, I am proudly, and I might add, stubbornly among the minority. Even with all his damn faults, flaws, and imperfections - and I readily admit that they are numerous - I adore Agent Wesley! When he made his less than grand return, I read with a truly indescribable blend of wonder, shock, horror, white hot anger and pure unadulterated joy. Holy cow! He lives! Well, wait, I can fix that! Come here you unrepentant, good for nothing, worthless, miserable, lying son of a…. I'm going to kill you! And this time you won't be coming back darlin'. How dare you die and not tell me that you were still alive! How dare you make me grieve for you!" Oh, I screamed, I laughed, I cried, I praised God, and then I stomped around pissed off at the man for more than six months. We're finally back on speaking terms, he and I, but some days I still have to suppress the urge to whack him over the head with a cast iron skillet.

In the early books, I wanted to be a less damaged version of young Lucy Farinelli. I wanted to follow Aunt Kay around the morgue looking at her various scientific crime fighting gadgets and gizmos. "What's that? How does it work? What does it do? How does it help you catch bad guys? Can I touch it? Back then, in the eyes of her frightened, angry, neglected, ten year old niece Aunt Kay was a god. She was the one grumpy old Marino affectionately dubbed the 'Doctor, Lawyer, Indian chief.' And it was a title she deserved. In recent years I think Kay has begun to believe too much in her author's press. As we here in the Southern United States like to say, she's gotten a bit 'too big for her own britches.'The series was already sliding downhill, but I really lost my feel for it in 'Port Mortuary' when Cornwell up and decided to change Kay's well deserved title to 'Doctor, Lawyer, Indian chief, &amp; Air Force Colonel.'

Cornwell has never exhibited the best grasp of time. All of her other characters seem to age normally while Kay somehow magically stays the same age, or at least very close to it. Additionally, I can understand how attending law school might make a driven forensic pathologist better at her job, but in the early books, I seem to recall it was stipulated that medical school came first. Cornwell decided, in 'Port Mortuary' to reverse this, stating that law school came first, and then Johns Hopkins, followed by the Air Force because they offered to help pay for all that schooling in exchange for her service with AFME. Something went wrong, and she did the honorable thing and refused to sign off on an Air Force cover up. After which, they politely invited her to leave the Air Force and basically bought her silence, somehow magically setting her up in a job she was still too young to hold in the Richmond, Virginia Medical Examiner's office. While she was busy doing all this, she somehow managed to get married, divorced, and be the only decent parent figure in little Lucy's life. Yes, if you ask me, her joining the Air Force was just over the top; way over. It made her untouchable. With each passing book it gets harder and harder to relate to her. That's never a good thing to do with your prime character. Being superwoman is fine, being superwoman three times over? Now, that's just horse hooey! No doubt, the decision to make her military came on the heels of everything that's taking place in the Middle East, but it came twenty years into the series as something that was part of her past. What, we're just supposed to believe she wouldn't have mentioned something like that at some point in the previous two decades? First, timeline-wise it just didn't fit. Second, I think it was also a poor decision on Cornwell's part because it was a virtual flap in the face to people who actually do serve in the military. At least, that's the way I read it. What next? Kay Scarpetta for president? Twenty years ago, I would've backed that candidacy. Not today!

Hazmatt: I'm not sure how the timing of Cornwell's deciding to switch from first person to third person in her writing corresponds with her real life or what may have affected the decision. It's rather obvious to me that she's working out some of her own real life issues via her writing, and that's okay. I've resolved a few of my own issues doing the same thing. But yes, the books are better in first person writing. Then again, I almost always think first person writing is best. She won't switch back to first person writing until…. Oh, I believe it was 'Port Mortuary'. While I didn't like the story within, the writing was better. 'Red Mist' was still bad but better than 'Port Mortuary.' 'The Bone Bed' was the first book I've truly enjoyed in years, and I haven't read the two that followed it yet. Books 1 through about 6 or 7 were the best by far. There are currently 22 in the series and I'm sure we're due for another one soon. It usually takes her about a year to write and publish the next novel. Number 5, 'The Body Farm' still remains my all-time favorite Scarpetta novel. It told the story of a truly ugly crime that broke my heart, but the story was very well told and without most of Scarpetta's recent paranoia, neurosis.

Yes I'm aware of the Rizzoli and Isles series by Tess Gerritsen, though I haven't read any of them yet. Should I start at the beginning, or can you recommend a favorite?

Okay, I'm done now. Oh wait, you actually would like another chapter of the story? Okay, if you insist…

* * *

Thursday, January 17, 2008

San Diego Joint Legal Services Offices

1646 HRS

Mac squints in response to what she hears over the telephone line. She breathes deeply and allows the woman to come to a pause as she sits at her desk feeling like she's being wound up like a jack inside his box; stress mounting with each turn of the handle while he waits to be sprung free when the pressure sensitive latch finally gives.

"Colonel, Colonel are you still with me?"

"Yes Marisol, I'm sorry, I'm still here. Can't you just tell me what I need to know?"

"Sorry Ma'am, the doctor doesn't like for us to have these kinds of conversations over the phone, even with verbal consent. In your case, I literally can't. When you filled out your patient information a couple of years ago you wrote down that we should discuss medical issues in person. We can change that if you want, but you'll have to come in to the office in order to do that. We're open until 6:30 today if you can make it, if not, we close tomorrow at three."

Mac sighs with resignation. "Okay. I understand."

"I really am sorry M…. darn it! I'm a little confused, am I supposed to call you Mrs. Rabb or Colonel Mackenzie? Captain Rabb referred to you as Mrs. Rabb a couple of weeks ago, but the nice girl who answered the phone a few minutes ago called you Colonel Mackenzie."

Mac chuckles. "The nice girl who answered the phone is Petty Officer Coates, and the answer is, I'm both. I don't remember making a conscious decision about it, but it seems to have been universally agreed upon without discussion that I'm still Colonel Mackenzie when I'm at work, which simplifies things for the Marine Corps, and I'm Mrs. Rabb everywhere else. However, I will answer to either. Of course, we could just simplify things. It is okay for you to just call me Mac."

The nurse laughs quietly. "Dr. Thayer calls you Sarah."

Mac grimaces, realizing she hasn't exactly made things better. "Rebecca prefers Sarah. She's more comfortable with it. She likes first names. I've noticed I'm not her only patient who calls her by her first name. That's not exactly typical."

"You've got a point there."

"Call me whichever you're most comfortable with Marisol. I'll answer."

The friendly nurse chuckles again. "Is that kind of like, 'Call me anything, just don't call me late for dinner?"

"Now that would upset me." Mac declares laughing. "I'll be there today Marisol. Just give me some time to finish up for the day and maybe rearrange a few things on my schedule. Tomorrow is not good at all. Busy day, plus everyone will be preoccupied with weekend plans, and Laura has therapy in the afternoon. There's no way I can get there before you close tomorrow. Her therapy session isn't over until 16:30…uh… That's 4:30 PM in civilian- speak."

"Thank you! I was just about to ask. I find it hard enough to keep track of time even without the military lingo."

"Well, I need to get off here. I'll see you early this evening before you close. Right now, I need to go see a judge about a bar brawl."

The nurse says okay and hangs up before she takes time to wonder if the woman on the other end of the phone was serious or just trying to be funny. She squints at the handset after she returns it to its cradle. She mutters quietly to herself, "I've heard of… man about a horse, but judge… about a bar brawl."

What's wrong Marisol? You look confused, and you're muttering to yourself again. You know I don't mind that at all. I do it too." Her employer leans over the computer console at the nurse's work station and whispers discreetly, "But try not to do it in view of the patients." She smiles brightly; showing she's teasing every bit as much as she isn't. "They might start to think that your cheese has slid off its cracker… and that could potentially be… ten different kinds of bad. We really need them to trust us. It's not a good idea to make the mommies and daddies of the tiny humans nervous. Pandemonium could strike!"

The nurse looks around apologetically. "I'm sorry. You're right. I don't think anyone heard me… Well except for you. I was just trying to figure out if she was joking or not."

"If who was joking, and about what?"

"The patient on the phone .… uh, Colonel Sarah, uh…Mrs. Rabb."

The doctor smiles; familiar with her nurse's harmless quirks. She nods with certainty. Colonel Sarah Mackenzie- Rabb doesn't joke; at least not so that I'm aware of. I don't know if it's the Marine in her, or the lawyer, but if she told you she was going to see a judge about a bar brawl, that's exactly what she meant. Is she coming in later?"

"She said she'd be here Doctor."

"Good! That's really good!" Dr. Rebecca Thayer walks away from the nurses' station on her way to attend to her next patient with a smile on her face.

* * *

Harrell Residence

1714 HRS

Mac pulls to a stop on the narrow soft dirt driveway beside the trailer where her niece's best friend lives. She steps out of the Jeep, smiles, and waves at the familiar and mildly surprised little face visible through the kitchen's large bay window. She trots up the steps of the small but tidy porch two at a time and wraps gently, if urgently, against the screen door before opening it.

It's Laura who opens the front door, just a crack, and pokes her head out. Grinning comically she asks, "What are you doing here?" I thought Uncle Harm was coming to get me today on his way home from work. It's not time yet." She shakes her head with certainty. "It only just got dark a few minutes ago. He'd better be okay." She frowns at the unsettling thought as it passes through her young mind.

"I'm sure he's fine. I left the office a few minutes early because I have to run by the doctor's office. You're on my way, so I thought I'd pick you up. After we leave the doctor's office, we'll go find Uncle Harm together."

Laura's eyes grow wide with equal parts excitement, anticipation, and mild fear as Beth Harrell arrives, wiping her hands on a dish towel, to see who's at her front door. "Oh, it's you. Don't stand on the doorstep like a stranger. Come on in."

Mac smiles with appreciation at the younger woman's warm greeting. "Thanks, but I can't today Beth. I need to be somewhere. I've got to grab her and run… Maybe next time?"

"Next time it is then." Liam's mother says in good humor. To Laura she says, "Run and grab your things; quick." She reaches down and pats the child's back as she trots away from the door somewhat awkwardly without her walker.

They're in the car and already on their way for nearly five minutes before the quiet little girl in the back seat speaks up. "How come you're going to see the Doctor? Did you have an appointment today?"

Mac glances into the rearview mirror briefly. "No appointment."

Laura squints thoughtfully. "Do you feel bad? You're not getting sick are you Aunt Mac?"

"I don't feel bad. I'm not getting sick; and you worry too much. I don't know why we're going to the doctor's office. The nurse called and said she needed to speak to me; only she couldn't do it over the phone. So, we're going to see her."

"Oh okay." Laura replies; somewhat mollified as she rubs her dog's ears. After a moment of thoughtful silence she says, "I hope the doctor has good news."

"I hope so too baby." Mac declares quietly.

* * *

San Diego Fertility Clinic

1742 HRS

Mac sits in the chair in her doctors, office and tries to make sense of the printout in her hand. In her mind, she's somewhere between unadulterated joy and utter devastation. Test results positive. What does that mean? Is that good? Wait, sometimes positive is bad. Is this one of those times? She can't think clearly, and she can't decide which way to lean. She needs a drink of water. Her mouth has gone as dry as the Sahara. She shouldn't have come here without Harm. She wants to leave. She can't. Without looking up, she reaches over to the seat beside hers and places a gentle hand on Laura's swinging legs; trying to still them. The backs of the little girl's sneakers are thumping against the chair legs and making a disconcerting noise. The nurse said it would be okay to bring her in here. Maybe that means it's not bad news. Mac doesn't know.

Unsure if she's been quietly chastised for making too much noise, or not, Laura glances at her aunt curiously while Dr. Thayer is saying something that only partially registers in Mac's mind; something about trying to reach the captain.

She frowns apologetically. "I'm sorry." She interrupts. "Did you say something about trying to reach Harm?"

"Yes, of course I did. We like to have both perspective parents present for these kinds of visits but when Marisol called him this afternoon, the staff member who took the call informed her that Captain Rabb was locked in a room with a couple of admiral's, and that he wasn't likely to come out any time soon. I'm not sure if that means he's having a bad day or a good one."

Mac shrugs thoughtfully tilting her head from side to side; grateful for the temporary reprieve from her own worries. If he's literally locked in… It's probably not the best day he's had recently."

"Then you haven't talked to him today either?"

"No, but it's not uncommon for Harm and I not speak to each other during the workday; we each have our respective offices to run. It wasn't a pleasant day in my office either. I tried to call him after Marisol reached me. I got the same response she did. 'He's locked in Ma'am.' I wanted to demand, 'Well go unlock the door and let him out!" She smiles tersely. "However, the military doesn't work that way."

"And you had your own issues to deal with today. Something about a judge and a bar brawl?" The doctor smiles and stretches her eyes wide.

Mac shakes her head. "Believe me; it's nowhere near as interesting as it sounds."

"I don't know about that. Judges… Bar brawls… Closed door sessions with admirals. It all sounds very intriguing to me, but what do I know? All I do is help people make babies."

"Hey! Don't sell yourself short. If you tell me this piece of paper has good news on it… You're about to become one of the most important people in my life! What does all this mean anyway? I see lots of medical-ese I don't understand, a few negatives, and a multitude of positives. Just tell me in plain English. Is this good or bad?"

Laura places her small arms around her aunt's arm and hugs it tightly.

Rebecca Thayer steps around the corner of her desk and perches lightly against the edge as she offers the two of them a bright encouraging smile. "All that medical mumbo jumbo is indeed good news; actually it's very good news. It took us a few tries to… you might say, 'set the right mood.' They were uncooperative and stubborn at first, didn't like we humans interfering with their private business, but eventually we found the right balance. That's when those few negatives started turning into positives. I've got lots of potential babies ready and waiting; twenty-seven of them to be exact. All they need now is a receptive, warm, belly to incubate in for the next nine months."

"Twenty-seven!" The exclamation comes from Laura. "I don't want that many cousins! That's too many; way too many!"

The doctor pulls a couple of tissue from the box on her desk and passes them over to her patient as she kneels before Laura. She willingly talks to the girl, distracting her, in order to give Mac a chance to quietly rein in the tightly controlled emotions that are threatening to run amok.

"I promise you Laura; you aren't going to have twenty-seven cousins. I'm hoping we won't have to use them all… Maybe only half, and even if we do use half, you won't even have 13 cousins. It's a little sad, but most of the embryo won't survive the process of surrogacy."

Laura nods receptively; without fear or sorrow. "I know. Embryos are just what you doctors call babies before they get big enough to see without a microscope. Aunt Mac and Uncle Harm told me already. I just didn't know you could make that many; twenty-seven is a lot!"

Dried eyed, and caught somewhere between laughter and a fresh wave of happy tears; Mac crumples her tissues into the palm of her hand, and hugs her niece fiercely.

Laura's giggle is muffled as she returns her aunt's warm, hug for a long moment before softly complaining, "Uh… Aunt Mac… You're squishing me!" she waits a few more seconds before adding, "Seriously, it's kinda hard to breathe here."

* * *

SPECWAR

1822 hours

In the elevator, on the way up, Mac lectures the excited little girl patiently as she straightens the collar of her small blouse, "When the elevator doors open, don't run out of here run speed racer-style across the bullpen and barge into his office. A good many of his staff might be on their way home by now, but he may still be busy. I know you're excited, I am too, but please don't get him in trouble with a couple of admiral's, okay?"

Laura nods very seriously and waits impatiently for the doors to open. When the doors finally slide open, she sighs heavily as though she's aged ten years in the span of time it took to take an elevator ride.

Mac carefully holds the door open for her, making sure she has enough time to get her walker over the elevator's slatted metal threshold without tripping.

Once clear of the doors, she takes a few steps and then grins happily at the sight before her. Her uncle is shaking hands with two men in naval uniforms only a few feet away.

"Uncle Harm?" She inquires with polite caution.

"All three men turn to face her wearing curious expressions. Harm's is a mixture of both delight and confusion.

"Excuse me for a moment please Sirs?"

The two men nod and Harm glances at his watch briefly as he opens his arms to the small girl. "Sweetheart, what are you doing here?" he catches sight of his wife as he lifts his niece's feet off the floor and he smiles somewhat sheepishly. "I wasn't late yet… Was I?"

Laura hugs him happily. "No, you're not late. We came to see you, because we got good news."

"News that's so good it couldn't wait until I got home?"

She nods mutely with wide excited eyes.

He jiggles her as if trying to gently shake the words out of her. "Well don't keep me in suspense girl! You came all the way over here just to tell me… Spill it!"

"Actually Harm…" Mac politely eyes the two rear admirals who were obviously getting ready to leave for the day. "It might be best if we wa…"

But with all the permission she intends to wait for, Laura has already begun to speak before her aunt's attempt to stall her even registers.

She starts with great enthusiasm and rapidly relates far too much information, "The nurse called Aunt Mac at work, but she wouldn't tell Aunt Mac why she called; not on the phone. She tried to call you too, but you're too busy. Anyway, the nurse said that she needed to talk to us. So Aunt Mac came to get me and we went to see the doctor. She's nice. I like her. She says that you and Aunt Mac made lots of teensy-tiny little babies!"

"Oh Laura!" Mac groans as Harm nearly bites his bottom lip off; trying not to laugh aloud.

"What?" Laura eyes her aunt with supreme confusion. "You said don't run through the bullpen. I didn't. You said don't barge in because he might be busy. I didn't do that either." She shrugs comically and offers a bright smile. "You didn't say don't tell him!"

When the two senior officers present begin to laugh with delight; Harm gives up, throws back his head, and laughter roars out of him. He hugs his niece fiercely and steps forward to offer his wife a modest embrace. "Looks like she's got you there Marine!"


	59. Harriet Makes A Promise

Chapter 59: Harriett Makes a Promise

Author's Note: I know it's been awhile, but things have been crazy here. Not bad… Just crazy. But I think I'm about to get a long overdue break from the insanity.

I'm not sure I like this chapter, but I wanted something a bit warmer than the cold sterility of the actual transplant. I'm not sure anybody actually wants to see that. Let me know what you think.

* * *

Friday, January 25, 2008

Rabb Residence

Despite her austere surroundings, Harriet Simms rests comfortably in the new bed and wakes later than she expected from her nap. However, it isn't long before she finds herself waiting rather impatiently for the appropriate amount of time to pass before she will be permitted to put both feet on the bare plywood floor and wander slowly into the newly added upstairs hall on her way down the deep set, slow rising staircase. Each step is wide enough to accommodate the width and breath of Laura's walker so that the small girl won't have to abandon it on either floor.

In spite of the gray sheet rock walls, plaster, and the utterly hollow feel of the nearly empty room that surrounds her, she finds herself at peace; her eyes drawn to one of the room's three large windows. Even with cool winter temperatures the sky beyond is a brilliant blue reflected on the surface of tranquil ocean waves.

She smiles. If they ever finish remodeling this place, it'll be worth a fortune, not that she expects her friends to vacate the property anytime soon. It's easy for her to picture them here decades from now; maybe chasing after grandkids.

She caresses her abdomen hopefully as she watches the gentle waves roll in, tumbling softly against the shore only to retreat seconds later, almost flirtatiously, like a fickle woman who can't make up her mind whether to stay or to go. The ocean and the beach are involved in their timeless mating ritual while she finds herself a part of one far more complex and less intimate; though no less astounding or breathtaking. Talk about finding yourself someplace you never could have expected to be! And she doesn't mean this shell of a room. It won't be a shell for long; they're working on it as fast as they can. They even offered to let her rest in their bed today. She declined. Their guest bedroom may not yet be fit for Home and Garden magazine, but it was more than adequate for the nap she was instructed to take following the transplant.

Her friends couldn't be more gracious. Bud couldn't be more supportive. Even her kids are excited. Jimmy and the twins don't really understand, she's not sure A.J. does either; at least not fully. However, they insisted on accompanying their parents to the airport in DC; sending them off in a hail of childlike fanfare and enthusiasm. The only person less than truly supportive is her mother. But that's okay. Harriet long ago gave up doing anything for the sole purpose of pleasing her mother; an impossible task that only leads to her own defeat and disappointment. Still, in spite of the woman's reserve, Harriett knows her brood will be safe with her parents until it is safe for her to return to them. For this moment, the only child she needs to concern herself with is the one she'll hopefully be leaving here with. If all went well…

If all went well. May as well assume it did. Assuming otherwise will accomplish nothing good.

Trying to sooth her own mild anxiety she resorts to and old familiar habit; softly talking to the new life she hopes is within.

"I know you got an unusual start… Boy did you ever! Just so you know, it doesn't usually happen that way. I feel like I've been part of some bizarre genetic exploration today. But, don't be scared. I promise I'll take good care of you. Your Uncle Bud is going to drive me crazy doing his best to take care of me while you're with us. He's already started, but you're only going to come and stay with us for just a little while. This is your home. This will be the house where you grow up. At least I hope it will. Life in the military can toss you around a bit, but you'll be fine. Your parents are good people; the best! Wait and see. They will take such good care of you. I promise. I wouldn't help them like this if I thought otherwise. I'm just here to pitch in; to get you started. I'm Aunt Harriet, by the way, and I'm just one of a whole bunch of people waiting for you. There's me and Uncle Bud, our kids, they will be your cousins. There's sweet, intelligent, Laura, who is also your cousin. She already lives here, and she can't wait to teach you everything! Wait till you meet Chloe! She'll be the one whose pretty face is usually hidden behind a camera. You're going to be her superstar! She's going to take so many pictures of you that you'll probably grow up hating the sound of the shutter clicking. There's Skates and Keeter too; more friends of your parents, they are you're aunt and uncle too. You'll like them. Skates is strong and kind. Keeter an aging flyboy who will probably get you into all kinds of trouble, but you'll have lots of fun with him. Your grandparents are going to absolutely adore you and probably do their best to spoil you rotten. Even though we aren't going to live together after you're born, I'm going to call you a lot… And I'm going to come and visit you whenever I can because you're not my baby, but you are very special to me."

Harriet pauses, indicating something important. "You have to do your part though. You've got to hang in there kidlet, because out of all those people I just mentioned, nobody wants you more that your parents do. Talk about two amazing people. They've waited a long time for you, and for the last few months they've lived like guinea pigs in a laboratory just so that maybe you'll be born. Your dad; he's going to teach you to fly… and how to hold your mother's hand. He likes doing that himself! Now that he's finally got her, he can't seem to let go. Your mom; she'll teach you how to persevere; how to be a Marine, how to survive in the desert, and dig for dinosaur tracks. I'm pretty sure they'll both teach you how to argue without even trying. I think that happens when you have two parents who are both lawyers. They like to argue. It's in their blood. It's what they do… And they do it with passion. They'll teach you how to believe in something bigger than yourself. You just have to show up. I make a deal with you, the doctor put you in there, you stick around, and I'll get you here… and then we'll see what you teach us."


	60. Supposed to be

Chapter 60: Supposed To Be

Author's Note: I guess I was worried that it might be a bit too warm and fuzzy, but you guys seemed to like the last chapter… So, forward march!

* * *

Friday, January 25, 2008

Rabb Residence

As she nears the first floor landing Harriet smiles at the object that blocks her path. She easily locates the release for the extra-tall child safety gate at the foot of the stairs and passes through before reaching over it and locking it once more behind herself. Chuckling, she helps herself to a stool at the bar that separates the living space from the kitchen. "Those things annoy Bud to no end." She points at the gate as Mac sets a cup of tea on the bar in front of her without needing to ask.

Harriet raises a curious eyebrow, but says nothing as Mac replies to her comment, "Yes, that one has given him some trouble already. First, he couldn't figure out that the latch is on the opposite side; facing the stairs. We did it that way on purpose. Laura can see over the gate, but she's not quite tall enough to reach over it and down to the latch. At least not without standing on something, and the gate won't swing open with something parked in front of it. If we turned it the other way, not only would she be able to reach the latch, but when it swung open, it might pull her off balance. I imagine you're able to get by with the shorter ones though."

Harriet nods; understanding the explanation and the reasons behind it. "Yes, we don't need the ones that are chest high. Our little ones are stable on their feet before they get tall enough for the gate to be useless. Before his amputation, Bud use to just step over them. He can't do that anymore, and it irritates him. He's pretty well adjusted, his limitations are few, and most of them don't bother him. But for some reason, the one does."

Mac is quiet and thoughtful for a prolonged moment before she replies, "They're meant to keep children out of specific areas, but they effectively keep him out as well because he's charmingly clumsy and can't seem to release the latch without pinching his fingers. That has to be frustrating for an adult with limitations. Unfortunately, most other adults can't figure out how to help without also treating the individual as if they're childlike." Mac smiles conspiratorially and with the warmth of friendship. "Bud is no more childlike than he was before his amputation…"

Harriet giggles. "And nine times out of ten he wouldn't mind you saying so. I don't know why I didn't think of that. I should've realized that having trouble with something as simple as a child safety gate might make him feel a little… inept."

Mac shrugs. "You probably didn't see it because you're too close to it. I watch Laura. Some things come so easily for her. Other things are difficult but she tolerates them. Then there are the things that really frustrate her, and still she seldom complains. When she does complain, it's usually because someone close to her doesn't understand. The same behavior from a total stranger doesn't bother her. I guess it's okay, or maybe it's just less not okay, if a total stranger doesn't understand. Laura says they don't see her anyway. Not really. She says they only look long enough to see a kid who's a bit little different, and then they stop looking. Those of us who are a part of her everyday life do see her, and because we do, we forget… And somehow that's harder to accept… The people who know you best are supposed to get it."

Harriet finds herself nodding again. "It is possible for Bud to walk into a room and for people not to know. That's not the case with Laura, but I could see them bumping into some of the same issues. Bud won't speak up until he's extremely frustrated or angry. We use to have these awkward moments at that point where neither one of us was quite sure what to say. Then, one day a few years ago, in complete frustration I blurted out, 'I'm sorry. For just a second, I forgot!' Well… for a moment, he looked at me as if I'd gone mad, and then he threw back his head and laughed as if he was suffering the same affliction. Finally, he got really happy. It took me awhile to understand why..."

"Because it's no longer the first thing you think about when you look at him. Otherwise, you wouldn't be able to forget. You see him - the man that he is - not just his limitations. They need us to forget, to see the person first and the inability later, but at the same time they need us to be the few people in their lives who remember what the rest of the world can't get passed, much less forget. Laura does the same thing. She'll stow it. Sit on her frustration for as long as she can, and then she'll blow. I was in a hurry one day a few weeks ago, and I was fussing at her to hurry up. She sat quietly on the edge of the bed watching me run around inside her bedroom, trying to get her ready to go too quickly. Finally, she yelled,' Aunt Mac, I just opened my eyes, my head's barely awake, and my leg's not awake at all yet. You either have to slow down until I can put my brace on, or you have to carry me!"

"Bud seldom ever raises his voice, but when he does, he's not usually that articulate. He won't tell me exactly what's wrong. I usually have to sort it out for myself."

Mac shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe because, with Bud there's the memory of what once was? I'm sure that has to sting a bit. It probably motivates him to keep quiet. With Laura, this is the way she's always been. She knows nothing else… Well, except that sometimes people just don't get it, and she has to explain things to them. However, she won't do that until she has no other choice. She's pretty resourceful, when it comes to finding her way around barriers or difficult situations. I'm not sure that's all about her disability though, I think it's equal parts perseverance related not only to her disability, but also to her very keen awareness of her mother's indifference. Christmas morning, Trish and Frank found her making breakfast for herself. She'd used all the kitchen table's chairs in place of step stools until she found the food she wanted. She told them, at home with Mom, if she wanted breakfast, she had to make it herself or go hungry."

Harriet gives her friend of mournful look before shaking her head and declaring, "See, if Bud and I decide to sleep in, our kids will come bang on the door, climb into bed with us, bounce around; all knees and elbows jabbing us, and demand,' Get up! We're hungry!"

"Harriet, your kids do that because they know they can. Because when they do that, you get up and make some breakfast. For them, it works. I suspect, Laura probably tried that once or twice. She may have gotten yelled at, but I think it's more likely she got ignored. She may not be consciously aware that she made the choice, but somewhere along the way she decided to survive both her own limitations and her mother's. As a result, she's been forged into the unsinkable pixie she is. She won't call attention to her own limitations or complain about them until she has no choice. When she finally does, it always catches us by surprise… Because we forget…" Mac smiles; laughing at herself. "Every once in a while, out of the clear blue, we hear her sweet voice. 'Uh, excuse me! I need some help over here.' Or maybe it's, 'Hey you! Slow down! I can't move that fast!' The only part I don't really understand is why she's not seriously pissed off about it. I would be."

"Maybe that goes back to her not knowing any other way. Bud went through a phase where he was pissed off. He tried to keep most of it to himself, but I knew it was there. However, he knows what he's missing. Like you said, she doesn't. So, what's she got to be angry about? What's she got to miss?"

Mac pivots her head side to side thoughtfully, and sips from her own cup of tea. "I guess the same thing's true regarding her mother's neglect. Trish told me when she tried to explain to Laura that little kids shouldn't have to make their own breakfast, Laura just looked at her as if she were speaking a foreign language; one completely incomprehensible."

Harriet laughs wryly. "I can see that. Laura likes to eat. In her life before you and Harm, if she wanted to eat breakfast, she had to make it herself; so, Trish coming along and telling her that little kids shouldn't have to fix their own breakfast, was an unexpected, and bizarre occurrence." Harriet pauses to look around. "Where are they anyway? Are we the only ones here?"

Mac nods. "Harm took Bud and Laura to Magellan in an effort to keep Bud occupied while you slept. He wanted to check on you every ten minutes. I told him you'd never sleep if he didn't leave you alone. Harm suggested they go flying. I tried to tell him that it's a little cool out for flying; especially in a stearman. Laura observed the shocked look her uncle gave me and then she promptly offered me one of her own equally incredulous squints. Harm told her to go put a sweater on under her jacket and she was off like a shot. I decided to pick my battles. If I had said no, I'd be the bad guy. Instead, if she gets sick, I'm going to make him stay up all night with her…" Mac grins wickedly. "And I'm telling his mother!"

Laughter bubbles out of Harriet. "You're going to sic his mother on him?"

Mac nods vigorously and declares, "If Laura gets sick I will, and I'll do it shamelessly! I swear, Trish reminds me of a lioness. She's quiet, she's graceful, she's poised and ladylike; but mess with one of her cubs…"

"And those predatory huntress instincts come out with a very loud and ominous roar?"

Mac nods with delight. "And somebody finds himself on the endangered species list! I'm also fairly certain she decided to claim Laura as one of her own less than twenty seconds after meeting her. Laura wanted to know, 'Are you really his mom? He's taller than you!"

"That would do it." Harriet nods happily. "But from what I've seen, Laura has that effect on pretty much everyone she meets."

"I know. To tell the true that kind of worries me. She such an easy child, I don't know if Harm and I are ready for whoever comes next."

Laughter flows out of Harriet once more. "Trust me… you aren't. No matter how many kids you have, you're never ready for the next one. Each one is a delightful shock. However, you'll be just fine."

"How can you be so sure of both things at the same time?"

"Five babies… Just remember, kids are like wild animals. They can smell fear. Don't let them see you sweat! The minute they do, they're in control."

Mac squints. "The minute Laura senses uncertainty from either one of us, she gets very nervous."

"Kids with good parents, take their parents for granted. If they sense they can control a situation; they will. Laura may be like that someday, but my guess is she knows already that there is precious little she can control in life, and for the first time in her very young life, she doesn't have to spend all of her energy controlling those few things she can. You and Harm are in charge now and she's safe. Instead of ignoring her, you put up gates to keep her from climbing the stairs into an unsupervised construction zone, you make her wear sweaters on cold days, and she doesn't have to wonder whether or not she'll get dinner. Any time she senses anything that might threaten the security you've given her; she's going to get nervous. It may take a long time for her to get over that completely, if it's not already too late. I read somewhere that the average child's personality is set by the age of six. I think Laura's going to be okay. I also think she'll carry her mother's influence with her for the rest of her life. Precious little of it has been good, most of it bad; there's no doubt, but if you can shape the way she chooses to respond to that influence… And if you can get her away from her mother permanently…"

Mac nods. "We want to. We have an appointment next month to talk to a lawyer; one who specializes in child custody cases. Neither Harm nor I are equipped to deal with that successfully on our own. By the time this is over we may very well be, but I'm not just going to assume we can handle it. I don't want to risk being guilty of that kind of hubris where Laura's welfare is concerned."

"You really think your sister will put up a fight? If she ignores Laura as much as you say…"

Mac shakes her head adamantly. "Trust me! She'll fight us every step of the way; tooth and nail. Casey doesn't want Laura; but she doesn't want anybody else to have what she sees as hers either. To her, Laura is a possession."

Anger reddens the pretty blonde's face. "Children aren't possessions." She whispers hoarsely. "They are God-given gifts… and any fool who doesn't know that doesn't deserve to call herself a mother."

Harriet's caught by surprise when the Marine rounds the counter and wraps her in a warm hug. "Thank you!"

"For what? I haven't done anything?" Harriet laughs with uncertainty and pats her back.

"Yes, you have. Even if this doesn't work out, without you… and Skates… I wouldn't have a chance. Believing what you just said… It hurts like hell trying to figure out why someone like my sister is allowed to have a child she's incapable of appreciating while my body just won't let me. It's sort of hard not to let that thought mess with my head."

"Well, don't you let it!" Harriet hugs her tightly. "The icky part's over now; at least for me."

Mac pulls back slightly. "The icky part?"

"Yeah, please don't take this the wrong way, because I have absolutely no regrets, but that was definitely one icky way to go about getting pregnant. I gotta tell ya, I like the other way much better!"

"Don't we all!" Mac laughs and returns to her side of the bar before moving to the refrigerator beyond. She peers inside, moving Tupperware containers and other covered dishes around as Harriet continues to talk.

"The way I see it, I'm already pregnant. Your doctor just put ten tiny little Rabbs inside me. I thought I read that there would be more; probably at least twelve. That's what I want to say."

Mac nods, talking over her shoulder. "She chose to err on the side of caution, given your number of past pregnancies; not to mention, having twins. We discussed it at length and decided that would be best for you. If for any reason, this doesn't work out, it's also reasonable to implant the larger number of embryo into Skates who has never had a child of her own, and therefore has no past experience for Rebecca to draw from."

Harriet nods her understanding as Mac delivers a large Tupperware container full of mango/peach fruit salad to the bar. "Harm's trying to entice both Laura and I to eat less refined sugar. Laura doesn't seem to mind too much as long as there's plenty of fruit around."

Harriet concurs before returning to the previous topic."Natural sugar's better in anyway. It makes my boys less hyper than the refined stuff does... The trick now is for me to stay pregnant long enough for the kid to start to grow. Don't worry. Worrying won't do anybody any good. If I don't get it right, Skates will."

"I don't know where you get your confidence from Harriet, but I'm grateful for it."

Harriet takes the saucer and the serving spoon offered to her. "I'm just convinced that this is going to happen. Some things are just supposed to be; and this is one of them…"

Half joking, and half serious she adds, "I just hope this kid doesn't have Harm's vegetarian palette. I'm not anti-vegetable, but if Baby Rabb thinks meat is evil… I may be in trouble."

Mac groans. "There's a thought that never occurred to me when I decided years ago that I wanted to have his baby. I wouldn't survive the first trimester. Maybe you'll get lucky. Maybe the kid will take after me. No wait, that's not good either. Then you'll live on meat, potatoes, and gravy; while craving fat juicy hamburgers. Either way; I apologize."

Smiling, her blue eyes sparkling merrily; Harriet teases, "Just exactly how many years ago did you decide you wanted to have _his_ baby?"

"Can't hurt to tell you the whole truth now…" Mac pauses for an indulgent spoonful of mangoes, tangy peaches, coconut, and blueberries. "Harm and I made a deal with each other the day little A.J. was born…"


	61. Blind Eyes & Deaf Ears

Chapter 61: Blind Eyes &amp; Deaf Ears

Author's Note: I really thought it was time to move on with the whole surrogacy thing, but had to pause briefly when I got several similar comments regarding the tail end of the last chapter. Byrhthelm, what follows is not exactly a smack on the head, but I hope it will do. Jpstar57, it's not quite a spit take either, but I think you'll like it.

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Friday, January 25, 2008

Rabb Residence

Harriet groans comically. "Don't answer it!"

"Harriett!" Mac objects with surprise.

The smiling blonde shakes her head stubbornly. "No! You talk… Now!"

"Harriet, I have to answer the front door." She tries again to no avail.

"Oh no you don't! I'll answer the door. I've been trying to get you to tell me the truth about what was so obviously between the two of you for years. Don't you dare stop now!"

Not knowing whether to grimace or laugh Mac, rather helplessly, winds of doing both at the same time. She opens her mouth to speak, and then snaps it shut again; wanting to know who's at the door before she takes this conversation any further.

Harriet adjusts her exasperated expression; wrestling it into a smile of greeting as she yanks the front door open. "Thank Heaven. It's only you! Come in." she says warmly before glancing over her shoulder. "It's only Trish. No reprieve for you Marine. No excuses. Talk… Now! She repeats with friendly annoyance.

Stepping in with a raised eyebrow and a curious chuckle; Trish gives Harriet a warm look and interrupts long enough to inquire, "How did it go? How are you feeling darling?"

"Other than extremely annoyed with my friend at the moment…" Her blue eyes dance merrily. "I feel as though I've been violated in some bizarre benevolent fashion.

Trish smiles wryly as she squints. "I wasn't aware it was possible to violate someone in a benevolent fashion; bizarre or otherwise."

"Until this day, neither was I." Harriet declares while placing her hands on her hips and giving Mac stern look.

"Have I come in a bad time?"

"Not at all!" Harriet smiles. "She can talk with you here… And she's going to!"

Mac laughs with equal parts mirth and resignation. "Harriett, it's unlike you to be so militant."

"Well, it's entirely too soon for her to be feeling the effects of the hormone surges due to pregnancy." Trish passes a speculative look between the two friends. "Mac, what on Earth have you done to vex her like this?"

Mac holds up her hands in a comically defensive posture. "Harriett was joking that she might be in trouble if your grandchild has his or her father's disdain for protein…"

"Trish, I've been trying for years to get her to admit that there was something going on between the two of them… you know… before there was something going on." Harriet rolls her eyes demonstratively. "She's never been willing to talk about it. But only minutes ago she decided to admit that she never considered what carrying a potentially vegetarian child might do to her own appetite when she decided, years ago, that she wanted to have your son's baby… I repeat… years ago!" Harriet drapes a friendly arm around Trish's shoulders. "She was just about to spill the beans… Something about a deal she and Harm made the day my A.J. was born… and you had to go and pick that moment to knock on the door!"

"Goodness! My apologies! Don't let me hold you back any more than I already have." Trish smiles with wide happy eyes and perches eagerly on a bar stool; setting her handbag aside as Harriet trots into the kitchen to pour a cup of tea and get a saucer and spoon for her newfound ally.

Without asking, Harriet dishes out a serving of fruit salad for Trish as Mac makes one last halfhearted attempt at protest. "You two really should be ashamed of yourselves; you know?" She wags the end of her spoon in the air; effectively pointing the finger of accusation.

Both women shake their heads with feigned innocence as if they have no clue what she could possibly be talking about.

"Ugh!" she groans in disgust. "Fine; as I was saying… We made a deal with each other the day A.J. was born."

She pauses, watching the two of them as they wait with barely tepid interest in tea or fruit salad; each of them waiting eagerly for something far more extraordinary.

She sighs in resignation. "Don't get me wrong Harriett, on that day, I was thrilled for you and Bud. However, I was also a little blue… I guess I was feeling sorry for myself. You guys had a beautiful new baby boy, Chloe was leaving town, and I was in the midst of one of my self-imposed no dating periods. Mic Brumby was doing everything within his power to make me rethink that decision, and Harm and I were doing… whatever it was Harm and I were doing."

She shrugs. "I was feeling… stuck. It felt like everybody around me was moving forward with life while I was standing still. It all came about innocently enough; at first he was just trying to cheer me up. He listened to me whine. Then, like always, he told me things would get better; that I would see Chloe again and one day I would have kids of my own. That's when I decided to tell him just how unlikely I thought that was because my biological clock kept sending out an alarm and I kept hitting the snooze button."

She pauses again, letting that moment in time find its way back to her.

"He didn't bother wasting any time objecting to the direction the conversation had taken. Instead he got sort of still and quiet, stood up a little straighter, stretched a little taller; the way he does when he's thinking. He took a deep breath and I stood rooted in place hoping I didn't look as blown away as I felt when he said,' Tell you what. Five years from this moment, if neither of us is in a relationship, we'll go have ourselves a kid…"

Without comment, Trish involuntarily drops the spoon she's holding. It clatters noisily onto the saucer in front of her as she reaches over, without taking her eyes off Mac, and gently whacks Harriett on the back when the blonde woman begins to sputter; choking on her sip of tea.

Mac smiles uncomfortably. "I told myself he had to be joking. Just to make sure I wasn't losing my mind, or at the very least, my hearing, I asked him. 'You and me… have a baby together?' That's when he informed me that with my looks and his brain, _he_ would be… perfect. So, still half-convinced he was joking, I asked, 'And what if _she_ has your looks and my brain?' I was hoping to throw him off his stride, end the joke, but he didn't so much as flinch. He said, 'That could work too. What do you say… deal?' He shook my hand. I told him not to make a promise he couldn't keep. He just smiled and said, 'I haven't yet.'

She watches the two of them quietly for a moment; each of them looking at her as if they expect something more to be shared until she shrugs once more. "That's it."

A noise that is half hiccup and half snort escapes Harriet. "That's it?" she questions before glancing at Trish incredulously. "That's it." She repeats as if it's the most ridiculous statement she's ever made in her life. "Honestly Mac, what the heck is wrong with you two? And what took you so long? You're a few years late… In case you haven't noticed, A.J. is eight. Aren't you supposed to have some sort of uncanny grasp on time? "

Mac can't help but chuckle at her friend's warm disapproval. She swivels her head side to side and rolls her eyes; mocking herself. "Yeah well… You know Harm and I. We're always in our own way. That was especially true back then, but the delay… that was mostly my fault. I spent most of the first four years trying to convince myself that it was just a warm fuzzy joke between friends. Then, one day shortly before A.J.'s fourth birthday, Harm asked me about a gift that was sitting on top of one of the file cabinets in my office. I was preoccupied, my mind elsewhere. I told him the gift was for A.J.'s fifth birthday. I wouldn't have even realized that I had misspoken if he hadn't suddenly gotten as quiet and still as a stone. I looked up at him and realized that he was puzzled a split second before he flashed his grin and lowered his voice, 'His fourth birthday is several months away Mac, or are you trying to speed things up a bit?"

She pauses for another second before clarifying, "Those may not have been his exact words, but it was something to that effect, and it took me a second to realize where his mind was. When I asked why he automatically assumed that's what I was doing, he reminded me that several people we knew, including you Harriett, were pregnant. I remember rolling my eyes and saying to him, 'Oh, I see, and you just assumed I would want to join in.' I shook my head. 'It was a slip of the tongue Harm. It was not a Freudian slip."

Mac grimaces at the pair on the opposite side of the bar. "He looked about as convinced as you two do right now. He may have actually said, 'Okay... if you say so, Jarhead.' But it's entirely possible that I just remember it that way because that was the attitude that came along with that confidence smile of his. The one that always makes me want to kiss him and smack him on the back of the head at the same damn time.

She gets up and moves to the sink where she busies her anxious hands with rinsing the saucer and spoon that she's finished using as she continues…

"He didn't mention it again until a little over a year later; at the admiral's dining out. I don't remember which came first, the mention of my doctor's appointment and the procedure that followed, which upset him, or the mention of our deal. I just remember that it was a bad time. He and I… we'd been in a bad place with each other and we were just starting to get clear of it. Webb was missing, I can't recall now whether or not, at that point in time, he was presumed dead yet, but this particular chat took place somewhere in the midst of all that. All that coupled with my doctor's news… It was late, I was tired, I was in pain; both physically and emotionally. I was a damn basket case. He picked that moment to quietly and gently remind me that your son's fifth birthday was a week away Harriet. I don't know how I kept from howling or dissolving into a puddle of my own tears, but it must've been obvious to him that I was in trouble because he immediately apologized.

She turns and silently offers them a chance to help themselves to another serving of fruit salad. When they both quietly decline, she transfers the remainder of the treat to a smaller bowl and places it in the refrigerator before washing the first bowl. "I couldn't kid myself anymore; this wasn't just some joke, some silly plan, than I secretly looked forward to. Obviously, he was thinking about it as much as I was. There he was; he was mad at me. For the whole mess with Webb, for not telling him what the doctor said before surgery, for having surgery without telling him… Well, I guess maybe he was more hurt than mad, but even so, he still wanted to talk about it; in spite of the fact that I'd just seriously disappointed him. I just couldn't. Not then. He knew that too, and he said it was okay. He said he didn't care how or when. None of that mattered. All that mattered to him was that it happened with me, and he would do whatever he had to do to make it happen. I did not ask him for this. Three years ago, he offered to put up with all this; medication, surrogacy, adoption. I expected with time, he'd probably back out, but still, I don't think I knew how serious he really was until then. No man offers to put up with all this if he doesn't have to… Not unless it means a whole lot more to him than he can find a way to express. I think it took me the better part of a year to start feeling like I had my feet under me again. I was starting to entertain the idea of having a conversation with him..."

She stops scrubbing needlessly at the already clean bowl, tosses her washcloth aside in frustration, and with her palms turned backward and her fingers curled around the edge, she grips the counter with both hands as she stares out the window over the sink.

"Then Mattie died. He just shut down. He pushed everyone, including me, away." She pauses to breathe deeply before concluding in a hushed and guilty voice. "And I let him do it."

She takes a final quiet moment to shake her head and stomp her foot softly, in defiance of her own emotions, before she shuts off the still-running faucet and turns to face them with a pinched, brittle smile. "And here we are!" She says with forced enthusiasm before plowing own. "It's a little late now, but if we'd gotten our act together sooner, if I'd realized the fathomless depth of his bond with me earlier, we might not have needed you and Skates to help bring this deal to fruition."

Harriet's tender smile is bittersweet. "Well, I'm not about to pour salt in that wound. Frankly, it doesn't sound as though you need any help doing that; but seriously…" She takes a stab at lightening the mood as her blue eyes begin to sparkle with mirth. "Good God woman! Sometimes, a man might tell a woman he loves her when he doesn't, but I know of no man - no reputable man - who offers to have a child with a woman he doesn't love. What? Did you need him to write it across the desert sky for you?"

Unexpected laughter erupts from Mac's throat. "Harriet, I didn't need or want such a grand gesture. I spent years just wishing he'd say it! That's all; just say it. There have been more than a few opportunities, and each time an opportunity was missed, I reacted badly. I did hurtful, stupid things that only made him that much more reluctant to tell me how he felt. It wasn't until the night of the admiral's dining out that I started to wonder if maybe, just maybe, my hearing was bad. If he had decided to sky write it, in the desert or anywhere else, you could probably both sit right here and question my vision as well. I missed all the other signs too. All the ones that were right in front of my face, because I was so focused on what I couldn't hear. Then, one day a few months ago, he couldn't understand why I was upset when I found out he wasn't flying. In a moment of utter frustration I blurted out, 'because I love you; you idiot!' and, strangely enough, most of his reticence cleared up. He's still not the most verbal person when it comes to his emotions. I don't think he ever will be, but that doesn't really matter anymore. It seems I can now hear, loud and clear, what I couldn't see before."


	62. Hurry Up and Wait!

Chapter 62: Hurry Up and Wait!

Author's Note: I think it's to be expected that the story I'm currently working on gets the bulk of attention from readers but I just have to tell you all, it's so nice to know that my debut story posted here is still being favorited by new readers. That feels kind of awesome! Thanks y'all. Welcome aboard Jaded Panther and all the other new readers of late. You make this so much fun!

Also, just a short chapter tonight. I'm mentally working on more already, but it's been a long day here in Southeast Texas. This author needs to call it a night. A goal of 1000 words a chapter may set a slow pace, but it's steady and manageable.

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Friday, January 25, 2008

Rabb Residence

Mac slips beneath the quilt and finds her husband's warm embrace waiting for her.

"She finally go down?"

She jiggles her head softly against his shoulder and snuggles a bit closer. "No, Laura's still awake but just barely; she's losing the battle. I left her because I think, if left alone, she'll surrender. With me sitting beside her waiting for sleep to come, she just keeps talking."

Mac chuckles quietly. "Harm, I don't even think she's aware of what she's saying anymore. All she knows is that it's been a good day, and she's not ready for it to end. However, her tired little body is finding it nearly impossible to cooperate with her stubborn mind." She pauses for a moment to steal a warm lazy kiss that lingers. When they part she eyes him speculatively for a moment before asking, "She do okay up there today? Was she scared?"

Harm muffles his laughter by placing a light kiss on his wife's shoulder. "Yeah, she was really scared at first. As close to mousy as I've ever seen Laura, but she would've swallowed her own tongue before she would have admitted it. I kept an eye on her with a mirror. She squeezed her eyes shut before the wheels ever left the tarmac and I don't think she opened them at all the first five minutes we were airborne, but she never did complain, not about the flight, the cold, or anything else. She wouldn't touch the stick though. I offered just to see what she'd do. No matter how many times I told her it would be okay; that I wouldn't let anything happen to her, she was absolutely adamant that she would crash the plane. I know she wanted to; she just wouldn't let herself do it. Before the flight was over she was sitting up straight and looking around, bright eyed, grinning ear to ear, and full of questions; but the thought of even touching the controls still elicited a very serious head shake. Na uh! No way… bet it won't take her long though."

Obviously pleased; he declares, "It was a fine first flight. She started out really nervous, but she didn't cry, she didn't throw up, and before the wheels touched down she was asking when she could go up again."

"Umm hmm… and another pilot is born." Mac declares wistfully before inquiring, "And how did you do? Are you going to be okay with it when she decides she wants flight lessons?"

"Can't tell you that thought didn't come to mind." He answers sounding haunted. "I can't tell you it didn't bother me either; but that's my problem, not hers, and I don't intend to make it hers."

Mac hugs him tightly. "This was a big day… For both of you."

"This was a big day for all of us. Bud loves to fly too. He had a good time, but he was too worried about Harriet to give himself over to it completely."

"Harriet's fine! Harriet's a trooper. She napped. Later she was the proverbial mother hen; fussing over, and taking care of everyone around her. She even managed to get me to tell her about our baby deal, with a little support from your mother."

"Oh yeah? I bet they both got a kick out of that!"

"Of course they did." Mac smiles brightly. "Harriet had a lot of fun asking me what the hell took us so long. I'm positive the same question was on your mother's mind. She, however, possessed enough self-restraint not to ask."

He chuckles. "Poor Harriett would implode if we tried to impose that restraint on her."

"I know. It wasn't a complaint. I wouldn't know what to do with Harriet if she were in any other way."

"Why was Mom here?"

Mac playfully smacks his bare shoulder. "She came to check on Harriett, of course."

"See, I told you. She hovers."

Mac shrugs. "Okay, yeah, maybe; but you say that like it's a bad thing. She doesn't hover to be a nosy pest Harm. She doesn't descend from on high and tell everyone what to do, whether they want to be told or not. She's an actively involved grandparent. That's all. Accepting your mother's benevolent hovering isn't an issue. Not for me. I welcome it. She cares, and it shows. That's a lot easier than tolerating my mother's rather conspicuous detachment. Don't get me wrong, I didn't expect her to show up here, didn't want her to either, but she knew what we were doing today. A phone call… you know, just ask if things went well … might have been nice."

"Well, if Harriet's mood is any indication… She acts as though she knows it worked."

"She does know. Technically, she is pregnant… ten times over. Now, the trick is staying pregnant long enough for one of them to… set up camp… I guess." She groans softly with mild impatience before adding. "We are now officially stuck in 'Hurry up and wait' mode."

"Why didn't Bud and Harriett stay here tonight?"

"Oh Harm, honestly! Do you really need to ask?"

She lies close enough for him to see her squint even in the darkness of their bedroom. "They want a little privacy. They now find themselves dealing with the whole abstinence thing you and I were dealing with a few weeks ago, but let them have a little fun. They are 3000 miles away from home, a weekend with no kids… and they're doing us the biggest favor of all time. They deserve a night to themselves… Harriett did say something about wanting to have dinner and invite Skates and Keeter to join us before they go home."

"Good idea… They deserve a year to themselves." He offers. Then, just for the sake of being contrary, he flashes his grin and adds; "Technically, they're just under 2700 miles from home."

Shaking her head, she gently uses the heel of her hand to thump him on the shoulder again.

In response, he shifts position, covering her body with his while taking her slender wrist and gently pinning it against the mattress above her head.

A tender heat sparks between their bodies as, in a hushed voice, he orders, "Stop beating on me woman! You might find there are consequences."

Sweet, confident laughter bubbles out of her as she nips passionately at his lower lip. "I'm not scared of you." She breathes.


	63. Chapter 63 AN To Be Deleted Later

Hello friends, readers, and fans

I sat down to write and made the mistake of checking reviews first...

It seems, now I'm not only getting nitpicky reviews because one actress is 2 inches taller than another, I'm somehow being copied in on reviews not meant for me, or even for my stories. An author\reader apparently did not care for a review of their own work, and responded unkindly to that review.

I've learned enough to know that the person who sent the review that was not appreciated also happens to read my work, although I have no idea how I got caught in the middle, but let's just say there was enough hostility to temporarily sour my creativity.

To the person who erroneously sent me their response to that review; a few reminders: first, it is not a requirement that every review you receive be positive. Second, we're all just trying to have a little fun here. Might I respectfully suggest that you first, grow a thicker skin. Second, when you screw up and send one of your hostile tirades to the wrong person, at least have the decency to apologize when you realize what you've done, and lastly, try building your own creativity, as opposed to seriously hampering that of innocent bystanders.

For all the kind souls reading, I promise I'll check in on the Rabbs and their friends again as soon as my mood improves, and I'll tell you all about it as soon as my muse comes out of hiding. . Good night Y'all.


	64. Chapter 64

Chapter 64:

Author's Note: I know it's a quick teaser. It wasn't supposed to be. Unexpected company dropped in just when I was hitting my stride. Many of you have been very kindly calling me back and waiting eagerly for my return. I thank you all for your patience and for your generous encouragement. I've decided to post despite its brevity, because I'm not exactly certain when my company will be leaving. I will edit later to make the chapter flow more smoothly. You'll have more soon. However brief this visit to the site may be, I'm back!

* * *

Saturday, January 26, 2008

Mac blots her lip gloss, smiles blandly at her reflection in the mirror, and then grimaces; never quite satisfied with her own hair.

"Oh well, that's as good as it's going to get." She shrugs, spritzes perfume into the air behind herself, then turns and walks through the mist on her way to the front door.

In the car; she reflects on her quick morning trip to the office and Laura's most recent therapy appointment. For the latter, Harriett had accompanied them.

The first times Harm, Trish, or Frank had attended the therapy sessions, there'd been a veritable litany of questions as they each had tried to understand the purpose behind or benefits of any particular stretching exercise Laura was asked to complete.

With Harriet, there were fewer questions and more quiet concentration as she observed from a quiet, unobtrusive, corner of the large therapy room. Mac reasons silently as she drives…

She's Bud's right hand… and although for different reasons; he, and therefore Harriett, are already acquainted with physical therapy.

Although Mac always welcomes any one of them along for a session, it was nice, for a change, to have a friend present who arrived already possessing a basic working knowledge of such matters. Harriet's presence this morning was peaceful and relaxing. Instead of Mac fielding questions, the two of them were able to steal a few minutes alone time to catch up with each other.

Things are good and she realizes with a bit of a pleasant jolt that, for what may be the first time in her life, she isn't waiting for the bottom to fall out from under her. She isn't waiting for the other shoe to fall, or for the next train to derail courtesy of some explosive unforeseen event.

_"__How did that happen? When did I stop waiting for darkness to descend once again? That's easy. Harm. _Even if there is dark water up ahead; I'm okay…

Weird!" she decides. "Very, very weird!"

She makes a left, headed for the Pacific Coast Grill as her cellphone begins to trill. When she recognizes the ring tone that signifies a call from her mother she laughs at the irony of it and resists the urge to answer the phone with, "Do your worst…"

* * *

Almost half an hour later Harm resists the urge to pick up his phone and call his wife. She still has four minutes… At least by his watch anyway. He glances toward the door at the front of the restaurant expectantly.

"She's not late yet." Harriet says with a soft smile; as if reading his thoughts.

"Yes she is. Keeter declares with a boisterous laugh. "If that woman is not at least five minutes early; she's late!"

Skates smiles at him from her place across the table, "You're not really helping." She jokes quietly with just a hint of exaggerated patience."

Undeterred, he continues in jest. "Swiss clock makers could take lessons from that jarhead regarding the concept of time."

"He's right." Harm smiles and raises a hopeful eyebrow when a familiar text tone emanates from the phone on the table at his elbow.

The vague incoming message raises his eyebrow a fraction of an inch higher in curiosity as he reads out loud for the group's benefit. "Running late. Explain when I get there. Don't worry, everything's okay. I'll be there in eight."

He texts back… "Cutting it kind of close aren't you Marine? Keeter was getting ready to send out search and rescue…"

A few seconds later he receives a rather facetious reply. "Sure, Keeter's the one who is nervous…"


	65. Chapter 65

Chapter 65:

Author's Note: Because there's been such a long gap between this chapter and its predecessor, you may want to revisit chapters 64. Hello everyone! I've missed you.

* * *

Saturday, January 26, 2008

_Fifteen Minutes Earlier…_

Gaze shifting slightly, as if watching a tennis match, Police Sargent Gregory Doerflinger watches without comment as some silent bit of communication passes between the two women in his presence. The older, heavier of the two, seems on edge as though she's expecting some malevolent entity to materialize through the hole in the ozone before her next heartbeat. The younger, more relaxed woman seems tired; almost bored. This is nothing new in her life.

"Sarah, be reasonable, how was I supposed to know he'd steal from your sister?"

"Mom, he has nothing against smacking her around. Is it really so hard to believe he doesn't have a problem stealing from her?"

Rather than answer her daughter's question, Deanne O' Hara turns her attention back to him. "Can't you charge him with something?"

Before he can think of an appropriate way to soft glow of the answer another direct question is asked. "What exactly would you like Sargent Doerflinger to charge him with Mom? You didn't catch Derek in the act. Even if you do find Casey's property in his possession, he'll just claim it's his; most likely because he's the one who purchased it. He did live here at one point." Mac gestures to the worn out mobile home to her left.

"I know it was him."

"That may be true Ma'am; but it's not about what you know. It's about what you can prove… legally." He answers patiently and shifts his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other as the tall middle aged woman frowns at him with displeasure.

"What about breaking and entering? If you find his fingerprints in there, can you charge him with that?" She sighs in exasperation when her daughter shakes her head again.

"No Mom. First, he used to live there. Even with the cleanup job Harm and I did last summer, it still might be possible to find his prints inside. They could be there for perfectly legitimate reasons, and in the second place, you gave him the key. So, legally, it wasn't breaking and entering. Why did you give him the key?"

"He asked for it. What was I supposed to do? Say no?"

"Yes, that would have been an idea response."

Deanne nods incredulously, "And when he got pissed off because I said no… Then what?

The sergeant watches the daughter shrug. "Easy… That's when you lie."

Unable to follow the thread of her daughter's thoughts, Deanne asks, "Lie?"

"Yes Mom… Lie. He asked for the key. That's when you should have told him that you didn't have the key to Casey's trailer… That's when you should have said that your son-in-law, who happens to be six feet four inches tall, and a member of the United States Navy, and his ill- tempered devil dog of a wife had the key and that if he truly wanted it all he had to do was come take it for us!"

The cop rocks back on the balls of his feet; his shoulders trembling slightly with the effort to keep his laughter silent.

"I never was very good that sort of thing." Deanne looks at her feet uncomfortably. Quietly she admits, "Your father usually knew when I was lying." The shadow of some dark memory fills her eyes. "it was more trouble than it was worth."

With a faintly detectable flicker of compassion mixed with a heavy dose of exasperation the Marine answers, "In the first place Mom, Joe may have been a mean son of a bitch, but he wasn't a stupid mean son of the bitch. Derek Cardwell, on the other hand, needs instructions on how to fog a mirror! Lying to Joe took a little work… a little practice. Lying to Derek is about as easy as fogging that mirror. He's only got a double digit IQ, for Christ's sake! And, secondly, Joseph Mackenzie is dead and buried. He has been for a long time. For your own well being… If not for everyone else's… Will you please give up the ghost!"

"Sarah, you of all people should know that's easier said than done."

Still exasperated, she offers her mother a smile as she throws up her hands. Shaking them slightly in the air to indicate her frustration she groans theatrically and offers her mother a brusque kiss on the cheek. Before turning to walk down the dirt driveway to her waiting jeep, she offers up a simple request. Just try, will you? Just try!"

As she slides in behind the wheel, Deanne questions, "You're leaving?"

"I'm leaving." She answers with patience.

"But what about this mess?"

"What would you like me to do?" Mac asks rationally and without malice. Intending only to point out the truth, she continues in it even tone. "What would you like the police to do? Derek asked for the key. You gave it to him. He went into Casey's trailer and took things. If questioned, he will most likely claim that the things he took belong to him. Some of them probably do belong to him. You didn't see him do it. There isn't even property damage. We may all know what happened, but what we know isn't going to hold up in court Mom. He'll just say Casey gave him permission to take the stuff. If she denies it, it's her word against his, and she's locked up for assaulting a police officer who was trying to protect her from the abusive thug who has now stolen from her No cop, lawyer, or judge is going to suffer a bleeding heart for her."

Stung by her daughter's detachment and her lack of concern for Casey's stolen belongings, Deanne fires back weakly "Apparently not even her own sister."

Unmoved by the accusation, Mac shrugs. "Sorry Mom, my heart can't bleed for Casey. It's too busy bleeding for her daughter."

As Mac closes the car door, Deanne questions, "You're just going to leave me here…" The rest of her sentence left unspoken and hanging in the air… "Alone… with the cop?"

"You'll be fine Mom. You have nothing here to worry about. Joe's gone. Derek's gone. You're going to be okay. I have somewhere I'm supposed to be in less than 10 minutes."

"Dinner can't wait ½ hour? You won't starve. I promise."

"Harm and I are having dinner with friends. The two couples we've chosen as our potential surrogates… One of them will be responsible for the birth of your grandchild. No, I won't keep them waiting any longer than I'll already have to. I'll call you tomorrow… Maybe bring Laura by to see you." She waits impatiently for another objection. When it doesn't come, she reminds the sergeant that he already has her contact information before backing out of the driveway.

At the stoplight at the end of her sister's street, she sends Harm the text message she instinctively knows he's waiting for because, ordinarily, she'd already be there. "Running late. Explain when I get there. Don't worry. Everything's okay. I'll be there in eight."


	66. Chapter 66 In Good Company

Chapter 66: In Good Company

Author's Note:

So, how was Cinco de Mayo? Anybody celebrate. Chicken tacos, and homemade guacamole here. Homemade salsa too; with the last jar left from last summer's tomatoes. I can hardly wait for the plants to start bearing. Tomatoes, cucs, peas, and summer squash. Soon, it will be so warm that most people will complain heartily about the heat. I, however, will be in seventh heaven. My favorite season is just around the bend!

* * *

Saturday, January 26, 2008

Glancing at her reflection one last time in the rearview mirror, she retrieves her handbag from the front passenger seat of her jeep, exits the vehicle, and steps through the parking lot with purpose in her stride. With a smile of gratitude, she enters, ducking under the arm of the tall man on his way out who politely pauses long enough to hold the door open for her. Inside the restaurant, the fragrant air smells of lime, shrimp, spicy fajitas, and domestic beer. The music, Carlos Santana's Smooth, is too loud for the number of people in the place, and rather than be quiet, most of them try to talk over it as ice rattles in glasses and silverware clatters gently against plates

She starts to speak to the young hostess who greets her with the standard question about seating. The girl wears faded black jeans and matching T shirt with its screen printing in bold neon hues; the obvious casual uniform for those employed by the little ocean-side bar and grill.

The place is busy tonight, but not filled to capacity. Not yet anyway. She lets her gaze roam the room lazily; spotting Harm almost instantly. It's never difficult; even in a crowd. He's head and shoulders above most people and in possession of a compelling personality that most people find magnetic. Tonight, though, he has competition. Half pleased with, and half unconcerned with the attention of others; Jack Keeter is already putting on a floor show, and shining brighter than a new penny in a little kid's hand.

Mac smiles again for the hostess and waves the rest of her unfinished sentence aside. "Thank you, I see my party." Waving in response to Bud's friendly face and to Harm, whose gaze greets her with an intimate warmth and mild relief, she tries not to laugh at the spectacle before her as she chooses a narrow aisle; the quickest route to her destination. When she nears, she tries to politely slip past Keeter who is doing his best in the scant space available to execute something she supposes might pass for salsa dancing with, not just one, but two women simultaneously.

"Hi." She says discreetly to the men seated at the table. Her own intention is to sit down in the empty seat next to Harm and offer a quick kiss. However, her plans are thwarted when she feels Keeter's strong arms around her waist pulling her into his fun. Caught in his momentum, she has no choice but to comply and somehow finds herself facing him; miraculously without bumping into either Harriet or Skates who both find themselves, suddenly, and temporarily released.

Mac shakes her head; her eyes glittering with mirth. Placing one hand in his and resting the other between his shoulder blades, she easily finds and steps into his lively rhythm, letting him lead and have his way… for the moment. He spins her around easily in the confined space and winks at Elizabeth Hawkes… or maybe at Harriet… as he does so. Mac isn't really sure which one of them the gesture was meant for, maybe all of them, but he's got everyone smiling and laughing; including total strangers at nearby tables.

"Jack?" she asks in a wry tone despite the laughter visible in her eyes.

"Sarah?" he replies just as dryly.

"This isn't exactly a dance floor. In fact, we're kind of in people's way."

He grins devilishly. "I know. Don't care."

She nods. "Thought so. Just checking."

She moves with him for a few more seconds until he releases her; spinning her back toward their table and then returning his attention once more to both Skates and Harriett while she slides contentedly into her waiting seat and finally steals that kiss from Harm. When they part she murmurs discreetly under her breath, "Ladies and gentlemen; Jack Keeter, dancing flyboy extraordinaire and his borrowed harem."

Harm throws back his head and laughs momentarily before quietly issuing a light warning. "Don't give him any ideas!"

She hisses back. "If you honestly think he hasn't already had that thought… You're lying to yourself Squid. What prompted the dancing?"

Bud chuckles; his round friendly face coming alive with merriment. "Song came over the sound system. Harriett perked up even more than usual. Don Juan over there asked her, 'You wanna dance Blondie?' First she was surprised, caught off-guard, and then she was pleased. It's weird. If anyone else dared to call her that, the look she would give them would draw blood. But she smiled at him. The next thing we knew, he was dancing with both of them."

Mac nods. "Jack would be the one to pull it off. Most people use the word Blondie in a derogatory fashion. He didn't mean it that way, and she knew it."

Harm drops an arm over the back of her chair. "Where've you been Ninja Girl? You're a whole nine minutes late?"

"Eight minutes and twenty-four seconds!" She quibbles playfully before shaking her head and groaning in disgust.

He raises an eyebrow and squeezes her shoulder affectionately. "Your mother, or your sister?" he guesses confidently.

"Bit of both I suppose; with a nasty helping of Derek thrown in."

"You saw him today?" Harm sits up a little straighter in his seat.

She shakes her head and sniffs lightly at his drink, waiting for him to nod, making sure it's nothing more potent than iced tea before helping herself to a sip. "No, he was long gone by the time I got there. Sometime earlier this week, Mom gave him the key to Casey's trailer… Because he asked her for it." She adds on when he shoots her a questioning look. "She didn't want to tell him no. Anyway, she went over there today to check on the place and found a lot of things missing. She called the police, and then called me so she wouldn't have to be alone with the policeman when he showed up."

As the last notes of the song fade away, the others return to the table in time to hear Bud ask "Who's Derek?"

A waitress appears with a chilled water glass meant for Mac and begins to take their orders, so it's Harriet who answers, "One of her sister's on again-off again buddies."

"One of them?" Bud asks for clarification.

"Yes. One of them." Harriet confirms.

"Hey, I won't knock on again-off again." Keeter chimes in. "Been known to do that myself. But something tells me that's probably not good for the kid. Where is she anyway? He looks around, obviously missing his pint-sized benevolent nemesis."

"She's spending the night with a friend Jack. Harm and I thought maybe we should have a grownups-only dinner with you all before Bud and Harriett have to go back to DC."

He grins. "Grownups-only huh? Should I leave?" In jest, he starts to rise from his seat until, while rolling her eyes, Skates takes his hand and pulls him back down.

Mac peers at the menu in front of Harm, making a quick decision about food as she answers Keeter's original question. "You're right. It's not good for Laura."

Amused by their kinship and their antics while in the midst of what is obviously a serious conversation, their server makes the rounds, taking an order from each of them and departing before the conversation takes on a more somber tone.

"Laura doesn't talk incessantly about her mother's boyfriends. She only mentions of them in offhand ways every once in a while. It's as if they're part of the background of her life; like she's learned not to get attached or involved with them, because she knows they either aren't worth it, or, if they are, they won't be around for long. There's one are two she misses, and she's been hurt by their sudden departure. I suspect, more than she will admit. There have been many men to pass through her life, and from what little I gather, most of them are undesirable. I can only hope that Derek is the worst of the lot. He was there the night I went in and got her out of the trailer. He should never have been allowed to be a part of her life in any way… Not even distantly. She's been with me since that night."

For an uncharacteristically silent moment, Keeter doesn't say anything at all. He hardly moves. He simply stares at his long neck beer bottle. Mac guesses when a vein begins to throb visibly in his jaw that at some point in the recent past, probably when they were alone together, Harm must have talked to him about Laura's home life in greater detail than she has.

"When will Casey be released?" Harriet inquires.

"She was sentenced to 2 ½ years. Apparently, that day last August was not the first time she has assaulted a police officer who was trying to help her. Realistically, barring further incident while incarcerated, she won't serve more than a year and ½. She's five months in, and I fully expect there to be further incident. She's been put in solitary confinement twice already for fighting. Still, unless Casey gets into serious trouble, Harm and I are guessing that at most, we'll only have Laura for another year if we don't take steps to ensure permanent placement."

"You're going to try to keep her though, right? I thought that was your plan?"

"It is." Mac confirms. "I have temporary guardianship, but right now, I can't leave the country with her, which means if the Marine Corps. decides to send me anywhere, Laura will have a big problem. As things stand now, Harm has no legal claim to her it all. So, I couldn't even leave her in his care. Harm and I want to adopt her. We can't send her back. To what? More of the same… or worse. Time spent behind bars is not going to improve Casey."

"Don't worry about it. No family court judge that half a brain in his head is going to send her back. Not after what you've told me, and there's probably a lot you haven't told me."

"I don't know Harriet. They took her away from her mother the day she was born. They keep sending her back."

"Because before they didn't have a more desirable alternative. Now, they do. This time next year you're going to have two little people to look after."

Mac smiles and reaches across the table, taking one of Harriet's hands in one of hers and one of Skates' in the other. "I hope so!"

Skates smiles. "God, you are going to be so busy. Two kids, the Marine Corps… and this guy." She jokes; pointing at Harm.

Mac giggles when he protests, "Hey, I'm not that much work. Sometimes, I even help out!"

Mac pokes him in the ribs, but then acquiesces. "It's true. He really is handy to have around. Besides, I kinda like him."

Having recovered from a momentary shift in his mood while he worried about his young friend, Keeter laughs boisterously. "No! Really? We hadn't noticed!"

Harriet giggles. "Speak for yourself! She may have danced with you tonight, but it didn't escape my attention that he's the only one she seems to have any interest in kissing…"


	67. Chapter 67 -What Works

Chapter 67; What Works

Author's Note: A Laura- centric chapter for all of you who have been missing her!

* * *

Sunday, January 27, 2008

Rabb Residence

Before she gets up from the table, Laura drains the rest of her glass of milk in one long swallow, and then announces "I'm done." Without further comment, she begins to cross the small living space obviously on her way elsewhere.

"Where are you off to sweetheart?" Harm inquires with an evident trace of curiosity in his voice

"My room."

Mildly surprised by the answer he says, "First, please come back and put your dishes in the sink."

The adults in the room watch her turn slowly, almost grudgingly, retrace her steps to the table where she carefully deposits her brightly colored plastic plate, cup, and utensils in the basket on the front of her walker, and walk into the small kitchen; all without comment. Once there, she grips the edge of the counter for support and unceremoniously dumps all the items in her basket into the kitchen sink one piece at a time, then she turns and begins her journey once more.

"Laura?"

She turns to face her uncle with an exasperated sigh. "You want me to wash them too?"

Surprised, he glances briefly at his wife who shrugs in response to his unasked question.

Trying to lighten her obviously sour mood, he flashes his grin. "I don't think you should have to wash dishes until you're at least tall enough to turn the water on without using a step stool. Before then, it's probably considered child labor. The government tends to frown on that."

Mood unchanged, Laura rolls her eyes; asking, "Can I go now, Uncle Harm?"

He motions with his hands; shooing her out of the room. When her bedroom door closes behind her, he passes a puzzled look around the room and asks quietly, "What did I do?"

Mac reaches over and pats his back. "It's not you. It's her. She's been in a mood ever since I picked her up at Liam's… or actually, since about halfway through the ride home." Anticipating his next question she adds, "I'm not sure why."

He nods and shrugs simultaneously. Hazarding a guess he says, "Having too much fun. Didn't want to come home?"

"No, she was all smiles when I picked her up. Especially after I told her that Frank and Trish were coming over for dinner." Mac smiles at the older couple apologetically, "Halfway home, she got quiet. So, if anybody did anything, it's me; not you Flyboy, but I don't have a clue what. One minute she was fine, her usual chatty self, telling me all about the fun she and Liam had, asking questions in that rapid fire style of hers. Everything was fine. Then it wasn't. Ever bump into this with Mattie?"

He chuckles. "Frequently. Mattie rolled her eyes on a regular basis, but Mattie was more than twice her age. I didn't think it started this early. Yeah, I've seen Laura roll her eyes before, but it's usually when she's being silly or when she thinks you're being silly. This was different. Something's bothering her."

Mac nods her agreement as she starts to rise to her chair. "I'll go talk to her."

Operating purely on instinct, Harm reaches out to place a gentle hand on her arm. When she turns, he shakes his head. "Not yet, let's give her a few minutes. We'll clean up the kitchen and then you can go talk to her."

Mac squints curiously. "What are we waiting for?"

"Give her time to change her own mind. Things will probably go better that way."

Mac chuckles but shrugs agreeably. "Okay, but what makes you think that's going to work?"

Aware that he's just trapped himself in an awkward place, he answers slowly but honestly as he busies himself with clearing away his own dishes. "Years of practice. She's you… made over…"

He moves halfway to the kitchen aware of her silence before he turns to find her staring at him; hands on her hips but with a curious laughter glowing in her dark eyes. Pleased she's going to take it well, he flashes his grin once more. "Leave her alone… for now. You go in there and try to force her to talk before she's ready; and she's going to hurl fireballs at your head!"

She's motionless for a moment as truth finds its way home and then she shrugs, picks up her dishes and follows in Harm's footsteps with their dinner guest trailing behind her; intent on doing their part to help with the cleanup. Beside him at the sink, she hands over her dishes, and then elbows him affectionately in the ribs before moving to the stove to tend to the pots and pans waiting there.

The four of them together and manage to tidy the cozy kitchen in less than fifteen minutes. Harm pours a round of after dinner drinks; white wine for his mother, mineral water from Mac, and a couple of beers for he and Frank and they move to the living room to sit and visit comfortably at the close of an eventful weekend. The art gallery has another exhibit coming up and Trish will be busy in the coming days. Chrysler is still rolling along. For Harm and Mac, work is work; and aside from her current mood, Laura is well. The reason for Bud and Harriet's most recent visit is on everyone's mind, and everyone avoids talking about it as if doing so might jinx it, or somehow alter the course of events that have yet to happen.

When Laura quietly wanders from her bedroom to the bathroom Harm leaves his chair long enough to return to the kitchen only to join them again a moment later carrying napkins and a large saucer filled with double fudge brownies. He places the small plate on the coffee table in front of his chair and returns to the conversation as if he hadn't left at all.

A short time later, Laura drifts quietly into the room. Without a word, she comes to a stop beside his chair and stands still as if waiting for something. Frank, Trish and Mac observe without comment as their conversation continues. After a protracted moment, when he fails to acknowledge her, she pokes him gently on the arm. Without making eye contact, he slides backwards in his chair making room for her in his lap. She smiles brightly and climbs up. Making herself comfortable, she pulls one of his arms around her and settles in. For a few minutes he doesn't dare move. When he decides she's not going anywhere, he leans forward only long enough to pick up the saucer and offer the girl a brownie and a napkin to go with it. The two of them settle in again and he lets her munch for a while before he says, "I'm glad you decided to join us. Grandma and Grandpa like to see you when they come visit."

She nods slowly. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm in a bad mood."

"Okay… Why?"

"Cuz Mr. Bud and Miss Harriett left today and didn't say goodbye. It's not fair! How come the people I like always leave?"

Harm hugs the girl tightly as an 'I should have known' look comes over his face.

First, sweetheart, they had to go home today. They have a very busy life and four children waiting for them back in DC. Second, you'll see them again, and third, they did say goodbye."

Laura scowls. "Not to me… they didn't. I wasn't here. I didn't think they were leaving until later. I wanted to go with them to the airport. Everybody leaves. Nobody said goodbye. It sucks too! Is it cuz I'm little? Kids are people too; you know! We're just shorter!"

Harm tightens his embrace and tries not to laugh, as Mac rises quickly from her perch on the ottoman kept near his chair and quick steps to the credenza near the front door. She returns with a small plain white box with a pink ribbon around it.

"Harriet left this for you. I'm sorry. It slipped my mind this afternoon when I came to pick you up at Liam's. I should have brought it with me."

Laura stares at the box in her aunt's outstretched hand curiously. "She left me a present? I thought she just came because of baby stuff?"

"She did come because of baby stuff, that doesn't mean she doesn't like you; or that she doesn't like spending time with you. You wanna open it? Or just stare at it?"

Laura takes hold of one of Harm's hands, and physically turns it palm up so she can deposit what's left of her treat there before eagerly accepting the box. Before opening it, she squints at her uncle. "Don't eat my brownie! You just hold it. That's all!"

He nods in solemn agreement as she hurriedly unties the ribbon and fumbles to get the small box open on her own.

Inside, she finds a handcrafted hair bow with two different color ribbons. One is an alarming shade of fuchsia, the other is zebra print. The two are intertwined and affixed to a barrette. Beneath the hair accessory, she finds a small note addressed to her and reads it slowly; careful not to miss a single word. She reads aloud, verbally stumbling over only two of the words; 'thought' and 'airport.'

_"Laura, _

_I make these bows for Jenny, and I thought you might like one too. Sorry you didn't get to see us off at the airport. We'll miss you and we'll be back to see you again soon. I'll call you on video chat on Monday. You can say hello to A.J., Jimmy, and the twins. _

_ Lots of love, _

_Aunt Harriett and Uncle Bud."_

Laura's smile is radiant as Mac says, "See, they didn't just leave. They did say goodbye… even to you."

Laura nods as she carefully places the bow back in the open box and returns her gaze to the handwritten note once more. "Nobody ever wrote me a letter before." She announces with quiet wonder.

"Well, someone has now." Mac tucks a lock of the girl's hair behind her ear affectionately.

Trish smiles and says, "Go find me a hairbrush to use darling, and I'll help you put that bow in your hair."

Laura slips from Harm's lap eagerly and bolts across the small living room; calling out a reminder as she goes. "Don't eat my brownie Uncle Harm!"

Mac can't help but laugh aloud. "You two!" She nudges Harm affectionately as she settles on the arm of his chair. You both know how to work the other one. You, you're the pied piper; doling out chocolate to lure her in and sooth her and she's got you wrapped around her little finger. She pokes you… and suddenly there's a warm lap available for her to curl up in."

He grins up at her and shrugs. "I stick with what works."


	68. Chapter 68- Nightlife

Chapter 68: Nightlife

Author's Note:Have a wonderful Saturday!

* * *

Sunday, January 27, 2008

Elizabeth Hawkes' Apartment

2241 HRS

The weather person for KFMB channel eight in San Diego predicts a 30% chance of rain for the following day as Elizabeth Hawkes steps out of her bathroom wearing nothing but a football jersey and drying her freshly shampooed hair on a fluffy white towel. She's one of those people who walks into a room and turns the television off. He's one of those people who walks into a room and turns the television on. Why? He turns the TV on, and then ignores it. She shakes her head.

"Thanks for fixing the shower. What was wrong with it?" she asks climbing onto the bed and settling in beside him. She waits expectantly for an answer. When his only response is to casually rest a hand on her bare thigh she gently pokes him in the ribs.

"Huh… What?" Keeter says absent-mindedly; not really paying attention to her or the television.

Smiling; she rolls her eyes and repeats, "Thanks for fixing the shower. I had hot water everywhere else in the apartment but not in the shower. What was wrong with it?"

"Trash in the line was blocking the water coming through from the water heater. I just took the shower head off and flushed the line; no big deal."

"Trash?"

He nods. "Rocks, pebbles, muck, pieces of plastic and other bits of garbage."

"In the water line; how does something like that happen?"

"You just moved in. If the apartment stood vacant for a while before that, stuff can settle and build up in the line since there's no water moving through. Plus, if the water line has been worked on recently, the guys who do it aren't always careful about making sure the pipes are clear before they're reconnected. You would've noticed it if you had separate knobs for hot and cold water. Because both are controlled with only one knob you had no way of knowing that the hot water was only trickling through."

"Well, thank you! That's the first warm shower I've had here in three days; since before your trip. The building super is either lazy, or an idiot! I've called twice already. Every time he comes over he tells me to turn the temperature on the water heater up. Which means the water coming out of the kitchen tap is hot enough to scald…"

"And the water coming out of the shower was still our ice cold." He turns down the volume on the television as a mildly disappointing thought comes to mind. "You should have asked sooner; before I left." He chuckles. I thought you were hanging out at my place earlier this week because you wanted me. And all you wanted was a warm shower."

She thumps his chest playfully. "Not entirely true… I wanted both!"

"Oh, okay, I guess I can live with that." He grins devilishly.

"You'll have to. It's the truth."

He nods without comment.

"Hey, you okay? You are kind of… quiet."

He nods again remaining quiet for several seconds longer before he finally asks, "You think it's really going to happen?"

"What? Rain… Tomorrow… Probably not."

"Nah. Not that!" he drapes an arm around her shoulders and pulls her body closer. "Harm and Mac; the whole baby thing?"

She nods confidently. "it's gonna happen. Maybe not the way they want it to, but it's gonna happen."

"Why not the way they want it to."

"What in life does go the way you want it to; the way any of us wants it to? Actually, in their case, it's already too late for that. You can't tell me they want to do it this way… Mac pumped full of hormones like some guinea pig in a lab… Surrogacy… Sterile conception by a third party and facilitated by doctors and scientists in latex gloves and face masks? Nobody wants that. If I'm wrong, I'm seriously disturbed by the person who does want that. Harm and Mac are just doing the best they can with the options they have."

"They're choosing to be parents and they are and willing to put themselves through hell just to make it happen while other people stumble blindly into parenthood without even trying… or caring."

"You're still thinking about Laura aren't you? She's been on your mind since we had dinner with them last night."

"it's not right! If the mother is so messed up the day the kid is born that they take her away… She should've never been sent home!"

"This really bothers you."

"I can't help it! I like the runt. She's smart. She's funny. She's sassy as hell… But not in a bad way… Not that bad, ugly, messed up kind of way. Somehow she's not fucked up… Not totally. She deserves better!"

"Everybody deserves better Keeter… And Laura's lucky. She's got better."

"Yeah, now!"

"Better late than never; right?"

"I guess, but her mother should've done her a favor, and let her go right from the beginning."

"I don't know Cassandra O'Hara. I've never met her, but based on what I've heard about her; that would have required a level of selflessness I don't think she's even remotely capable of reaching."

"Parents are supposed to be selfless; aren't they?"

Skates shrugs. "My father is… Mom… Not so much."

"My mom was."

"What about your dad? Don't think I've ever heard you mention him?"

"Don't have much to say. He took off before I was born."

"Ever met him?"

He shakes his head.

"Ever wanted to?"

He shrugs. In a calm, level voice absent of bitterness he admits "Thought about looking him up once… For about 4 seconds. He left when mom told him she was pregnant. So, it's not like he can claim he doesn't know it's possible that I exist. He wasn't interested in being a father. Why should I be interested in being his son? Besides, say I look him up; if he's even still alive. Say I find him, then what? If I find him, I have to deal with the person I find. Good or bad. What if I don't like what I find? No… Too much trouble to go to for a man who never went to any trouble for me. I got this far without him. I think he did me a favor. Just because a person wants to be a parent doesn't automatically mean they will be a good parent. But, if they don't want to be a parent, then they shouldn't. Period. Laura's proof of that. Me and Mom… We were okay. If he'd stayed, he probably would have screwed me up."

"Had to be tough."

He shrugs. "Was sometimes."

"No regrets?"

He shakes his head and flashes his grin once more as he picks her up and settles her across his lap. "Waste of time… Not to mention energy. I can think of more enjoyable ways to spend both."

* * *

Burnett residence

Trish is in that nowhere place between sleep and awake when she hears a sound so faintly that at first she assumes she's imagined it; or perhaps dreamt it, but when the repressed rumble of laughter deep in her husband's chest becomes noticeably louder after a few passing seconds she reaches over, switches on her bedside lamp, and pushes herself up on her elbows.

Raising an inquiring eyebrow, she simply stares at him for a few seconds which completely undoes his attempt to remain quiet. The more confused she becomes, the harder he laughs until finally she asks, "Frank, darling, are you going to explain, or shall I have the walls padded?"

Mingled in with his laughter, he manages to force out the words they both remember hearing earlier in the evening. "He's had… Years of practice. Do you suppose… she really throws fireballs… at his head?"

Musical laughter bubbles out of his wife. "Who? Laura? It's doubtful, but not impossible. Mac? Yes! Definitely! And I love her for it! She's a handful… and then some, but she's just what he needed." Trish falls back against the pillows and pulls him close.

He squeezes her shoulders and kisses her temple. "Boy's got two of them, and he wants another. If the next one's a girl, he better learn to duck."

* * *

Rabb Residence

When she hears his quiet knock against the frame of the bathroom door, Mac turns, an expectant smile lifting the corners of her mouth, and glances over the half wall that separates the shower from the rest of their bathroom;

"What is this?" he asks while holding the object in question up in the air on two fingertips.

Unsure why he's asking the question, she squints; her brow furrowing deeply before she answers flatly, "Harm; that would be a hula hoop."

"I know what it is."

She chuckles merrily and rolls her eyes as she lathers up. "Then why did you ask me?"

"I mean, what's it doing here?"

"At the moment, Flyboy, it's a dangling from your fingertips."

"Mac!"

"If you don't get the answer you want, you're asking the wrong question Counselor."

He grins and shakes his head in frustration but chooses his next question with a bit more deliberation. "Where did it come from?"

"The toy department at Wal-Mart."

"Mac!" he laughs.

She joins in on the laughter. "Well, are you seriously going to stand there and cross-examine me about a hula hoop while I'm in the shower? Since, obviously you are, the least you can do is articulate exactly what it is you want to know Squid."

"I want to know how it came to be here."

"I bought it for Laura."

He stares at her as if she's just said something outrageous. "Why would you do that?"

She returns a stare to match his own. "Because she said she wanted it…"

"Mac! She can barely stand on her own two feet just standing still. She can't manage this thing!

"I know that Harm… She doesn't. What? I'm supposed to tell her not to even try? That won't get her anywhere in life, and you know it. She wanted to try, so I bought it. She can play with it out there on the beach in the sand. When she falls, and she will fall, she'll have someplace soft to land. Her six is only about two feet off the ground. She's not going to fall that far. She might get a few bruises. She'll either find a way to make it work, or she won't. She'll reinforce her perseverance, or she will learn to accept her limitations. Our job is to protect her, to guide her, not to put her in a bubble. That would do more harm than good. She's a tough kid. She's not gonna fall apart if she skins a knee."

By the time she finishes, he's leaning against the door jamb with his arms folded in front of his chest. The hula hoop is propped against the wall, and his blue eyes are warm with affection.

"What?"

"You're good at this."

For a second, she looks at him as if he's speaking a foreign language; one that she doesn't understand. Then, his meaning falls into place. "Better hope so. No one taught me how to do this Harm; I'm just making it up as I go along. And it's too late to turn back now. We've passed the point of no return. If past experience is in our favor, Harriett won't have any trouble getting, or staying, pregnant."

"We're gonna be fine." He declares; his words are muffled as he pulls his T-shirt over his head and approaches the shower. In seconds, he dispenses with the rest of his clothing and steps into the shower amongst halfhearted, if somewhat noisy, protests.

"Hey! This is my shower! You've already had yours!"

"Yeah well... I'm taking another…"


	69. Chapter 69: Distractions

Chapter 69: Distractions

Author's Note: There's more story coming soon. It's already in my head, but for some reason, my voice recognition software is fighting me tonight. I'm having a lot of trouble dictating this. Maybe the rain and the damp air are taking an imperceptible toll on my throat Going to take a break, rest my voice, and try again later. In the meantime, I hope you find this.

* * *

Saturday, February 9, 2008

Washington, DC

Roberts' Residence

Harriet washes her hands for what must be the 12th time since she woke and it's not even close to noon. She dries them on the kitchen towel and applies a liberal amount of hand cream to combat the dryness brought about by all the excessive washing. She turns away from the sink and for a moment she stands silently watching Jenny who is on her knees in a chair at the kitchen table with one of her activity books and crayons while her three brothers tromp noisily through the rooms upstairs. Harriet sighs in frustration and slings the hand towel over her shoulder as Bud enters the kitchen through the back door.

"Uh oh. I recognize that sound. What's wrong honey?"

"Nothing." she says in a tone that belies the single word. "Everything is absolutely fine." She continues with a forced, brittle smile.

"Sweetie, only you could manage to make that sound like a bad thing."

The usual sparkle in her blue eyes is still somewhat diminished even when she makes a more genuine effort to smile for him. "I'm just impatient! I keep waiting for some tell-tale sign. I keep expecting to wake up feeling sluggish or achy; tired or cranky… But everything's fine."

"Harriet, honey, it's only been 16 days. It's too soon."

"I know that Bud. I can't help it. This is worse than if we were waiting to hear about one of our own. Do you think performance anxiety is normal in this kind of situation?"

Trying not to chuckle too heartily Bud Roberts walks across the room and wraps his arms around his wife. "I know they check on you every once in a while, but it's not like Harm and Mac are calling three times a day, every day, to ask how you are feeling. The only person putting pressure on you to perform; is you. Will you please relax!"

"I know. I think I might actually feel better if they were making pests of themselves. If I'm wound this tight, they must be half mad with the waiting."

"Honey, you need something to do to keep your mind off things. Start one of your projects; you know, like you always did with our kids."

For a moment she doesn't know whether to laugh at him or smack him upside the head. Then, she sighs and surrenders. Typical Bud. "Obviously it has escaped your attention that in the last two weeks I have steam cleaned all the rugs, taken down, washed, and re-hung all the drapes, and cleaned the garage."

"You have?"

"I have." She answers dryly.

"Harriett, you're supposed to be taking it easy!"

"I said I'd taken two weeks to do all that. Not two days."

"Well, look at it this way." He pauses to grin. "You're getting a head start for when the impulse to nest kicks in. By then the house will be immaculate."

"Bud…" She reminds him in a deadpan voice. "We have four children. This house has not been immaculate since the day before we moved in."

* * *

Sunday, February 10, 2008

San Diego

Rabb Residence

Unable to concentrate thanks to the sounds of construction that is underway, overhead in the new upstairs portion of their home, and still largely undecided, Mac stares at the vast assortment of swatches and samples spread out on the kitchen counter before her. Pastel green, yellow, or pale orange; all gender neutral colors. She's determined to avoid the traditional, gender specific, pink or blue, but that's the only definite decision she's made. Not that it really matters, pregnancy hasn't even been confirmed. She argues with herself annoyed with her own indecision. "Maybe I shouldn't do this yet. Maybe I'm jinxing it." her conscience whispers and then screams, "That's ridiculous!"

In frustration, she snaps a magazine open to an article on decorating closed and tosses it aside. Then, she jumps, mildly startled by the unexpected sound of Laura's voice so near. She hadn't heard the girl approach, and she turns to find Laura standing at her side; her small hands gripping the edge of the countertop for support as she stands on tiptoe and gazes curiously at the clutter spread out before the marine. "What ya doin' Aunt Mac?"

"I'm trying to distract myself."

"Distract yourself from what." Laura inquires eagerly.

"From waiting impatiently for news about a baby."

Laura eyes her aunt with skepticism. "Is it working?"

Mac smiles down at the girl and slumps down onto the nearest bar stool. "No baby, it is definitely not working."

Laura picks up a collection of paint swatches and offers happily, "I like the orange."

"Of course you do; is the boldest, brightest, color in all this mess." Mac smiles warmly, and reaches out to muss her hair affectionately.

"Is all this stuff for the baby's room?

"No, not all of it. We have to choose some of it."

Laura shrugs and squints with confusion; "Aunt Mac, how are you supposed to stop thinking about the baby if you're doing baby stuff?"

"You know something? You're a very smart little girl!"

Laura nods matter-of-factly and answers with neither, conceit, nor modesty. "I know… Grandma already told me so."

Mac can't help but laugh which only puzzles Laura. "What's funny? I didn't say anything funny."

Mac shrugs. "If Grandma said it, it has to be true; right?"

Laura nods vigorously. "Bet I can make you think of something else besides baby stuff."

"Lay it on me kid! What you got?"

"I need your help with something." She announces with extreme seriousness.

"I'm all ears!"

In response, and with great care, Laura slowly removes a small timeworn box from the basket on the front of her walker and places it on the countertop before climbing onto the bar stool beside her aunt. Unlike the old cigar boxes or the artistic child's pencil boxes, this box bears the images of several different flamboyant fonts that communicate a multitude of different slang words for money; including, but not limited to, cash, greenbacks, dough, moo-la, bank notes, bucks, smackers, cabbage, cheddar, clams, coin, dead presidents, sawbucks, scratch, shekels, two bits, ten spots, fivers, and wampum.

Mac smiles in response to the unfamiliar box. "Where'd you get this box, baby?"

"It was Grandpa's. I said I liked it. He said I could have it to keep my 'lowance in." She opens the flip top lid to reveal a small plastic cash drawer with an ample supply of coins separated into the different slots according to value. She lifts out the drawer, and carefully sets it aside to reveal her surprisingly healthy and neatly organized collection of folding money.

Mac stares in wonder. "You're getting an allowance? This is news to me."

Laura nods. "Uncle Harm says it's money grownups give to kids for doing good jobs on chores and stuff."

Mac chuckles. "Yeah, I know what an allowance is. I just didn't know he was giving you one; that's all."

Laura shrugs. "That's better than me. I didn't even know what it was until he told me. Mom never gave me no 'lowance. Uncle Harm prolly just forgot to tell you."

Mac nods with assurance. "It must've slipped his mind quite a while ago. This is quite a stash. How much do you get per week?"

"Five dollars… for making my bed, and cleaning my room, helping set the table, and for not leaving my clothes on the floor in the closet or the bathroom. Plus extra for when I do a good job helping him make the house bigger."

"How much extra?"

Mac watches and listens eagerly as Laura shrugs and explains. "That part's never the same. Once he gave me two quarters; and another time he gave me six whole dollars at once… But that was a lot of work!"

"When did he start giving you this allowance?"

Laura shakes her head; thinking hard for a moment. "I don't remember exactly. It was before Christmas, before my birthday, I think. But, it was after school started, cuz on Fridays at lunchtime, I buy Liam a root beer. He gets his money on Sunday. So on Monday, he buys me an atomic fireball. It's a cinnamon candy. It's hot! Liam won't eat 'em, but he buys me one on Mondays cuz I like 'em. But, anyway, when I found Grandpa's box, he said I could have it, but he said I needed a 'lowance to keep in it. I didn't know what he was talking about. Uncle Harm s'plained it to me. That's when it started."

Mac eyes the contents of the box and guesses, "Is that all you buy? Liam's root beer?"

"Mostly… Sometimes I buy jelly beans, or those big chewy treats that Candy likes; the one's that clean her teeth. Uncle Harm says save most of it… You know, for special stuff."

"Do you know how much you have in here?"

Laura nods and shrugs at the same time. "Almost. I've got $37.00, and some extra. The coins confuse me; except for the quarter. I know which one that one is. I like the $1.00 bills. They're easy to count."

"You must have something special in mind? Wanna go shopping?"

Laura nods vigorously. "Uncle Harm says Valentine's Day is soon. I forget when."

"Valentine's Day is this coming Thursday."

"Is this enough to buy some presents?"

"Presents? You got a boyfriend already?" Mac teases, "More than one?"

Laura giggles. "No, Aunt Mac. You're silly! If I have enough money, I want to get a pretty flower for Grandma, and some golf club covers for Grandpa… But not the kind of flower you get in the flower shop. They just die. I want the kind of flower you put in the ground. Grandma likes digging in the dirt! She grows the best flowers. And Grandpa wants some special golf club covers. I know 'cause Grandma told me so, but maybe we could call her, because I forgot the word she said. They are made from that same stuff those swimming suits are made from… Neo something… Not Neosporin though. That's medicine. I know that. But it sounded kinda like that."

Mac laughs and hugs the girl close. "First, I'm pretty sure you mean neoprene, and technically, their wet suits; not swim suits. People dive in them. Second, I didn't know there were golf club covers made from neoprene, but we'll go find them and see how much they cost."

"Can we go today?"

Mac thinks it over briefly. "That might be best, because work's going to be busy this coming week."

"Cool!" she hops down from her perch at the kitchen bar. "I'm gonna go tell Uncle Harm to stopping banging that hammer and come shopping with us!"


	70. Chapter 70: Something to Look forward to

Chapter 70: Something To Look Forward To

Author's Note: I'm stopping short tonight. My county is under a flash flood warning. It has rained all day, and although we had a break in the deluge this evening, it has started raining again and it is predicted that it will get bad. For the moment, I'm still high and relatively dry here. However, less than 2 miles away, my parents have water standing in their garage, and if the rain gets worse, they may have water in their house before the night is over. I think therefore, it may be wise for me to turn off the computer and get some sleep while I can. I'll be in touch tomorrow evening sometime to let you all know that I didn't float away… I hope.

* * *

Friday, February 15, 2008

San Diego

JLSO

Despite the fact that she is later than she intended to be, Mac is still thirty minutes ahead of the crowd, and surprised to find Petty Officer Jennifer Coates already there and settling down at her desk.

"Good morning Ma'am. I just put coffee on. It's not ready yet. I wasn't expecting to see you here quite so early this morning."

"Alarm clock didn't go off. Otherwise, I would've been here sooner."

"I would've thought your internal clock would have ruled an actual alarm clock obsolete… or doesn't it work when you're asleep?"

"Ordinarily, yes, it does work even when I'm asleep. However, it's not impossible to temporarily short circuit it. I wanted to be an hour early this morning. The only reason I'm here half an hour early, is because I had unexpected help this morning. What about you? Why are you here so early? I know you're usually in at about this time, but you don't have to be here for another half hour."

Coates smiles. "I've gotten so used to it, I sort of feel like I do have to be here half an hour ahead of everyone else. I can get more done in this extra half hour when it's quiet than I will be able to manage the rest of the morning. Once everybody gets here, the phones will start ringing, and the interruptions will begin and I'll move from one disruption to the next until lunchtime."

"I'm familiar with that problem." Mac returns her smile and nods congenially.

"Unexpected help?"

"Pardon?"

"You said you had unexpected help."

"Trish dropped by early, trying to catch me on my way out the door. If I'd gotten up when I intended to, she would have missed me. As it was, she was a big help this morning… Actually, I can't think of a time when Trish has ever been less than helpful."

Coates chuckles discreetly, her warm eyes sparkling brightly.

Mac raises an eyebrow and inquires simply, "What?"

"I know I'm not married, but something tells me that most people probably don't talk that way about their mothers-in-law. When my mom was around, Dad would flee the scene at least half an hour before my grandmother's scheduled arrival. Mom used to get so mad at him because she couldn't go with him. "

"You're not the only one who finds it unusual. I'm still getting used to it… In a good way. Trish is incomparable; in a class by herself. Anyway, Laura only has ½ day at school today… Teacher in service this afternoon. It's also one of those days when they invite parents to come to the school and have lunch with the kids. Laura didn't tell us about it until Wednesday night. I'm going to have to do a better job of checking her calendar. Harm and I couldn't rearrange our schedules on such short notice. Trish and Frank are going in our place. She dropped by early, just to make sure she had all the ends and outs clear in her mind. Laura is spending the night with them tonight, and… " She pauses to stretch her eyes wide at even the possibility of success. "Captain Rabb and I are going to try our very best to go to a nice restaurant; actually have an adults-only belated Valentine's dinner in public."

"I take it something like that is difficult to manage?"

Mac laughs boisterously. "Jen, you have no idea! Harm and I have known each other for more than a decade. We've been married to each other for more than five months. Even so, I can still count the number of times he and I have been out alone together in public on a date on one hand with a few fingers leftover."

"Good luck. I'm going to get coffee before the madness begins. Want me to bring you a cup?" When Mac simply looks at her without giving voice to the expression on her face, the younger woman shakes her head. "Sorry, dumb question. What was I thinking? One cup of Marine-grade sludge coming up."


	71. Chapter 71: One For The History Books

Chapter 71: One For The History Books

Author's Note: Okay, as of this evening, I've had a row seat for not just one, but too, tornadoes in less than 3 ½ weeks. They were both little bitty baby tornadoes; only F2's, but I gotta tell ya; if God thinks this is entertaining… He is sorely mistaken! Still, my extreme displeasure aside… Hallelujah! The roof is still attached to the house, and we're all alive to tell the tale!

* * *

Friday, February 15, 2008

Unbuttoning his cufflinks; Harm exits the master bath and tosses them into the small decorative tray on top of his dresser. Rolling his shirt sleeves up passed his elbows, he leaves the bedroom and enters the kitchen. At a momentary loss for his wife's whereabouts, he walks through their cozy living space and steps back into the kitchen when it occurs to him that there's no reason for her to have gone further than the living room. On his present course, the only rooms beyond the living room are Laura's bedroom and bathroom. Laura isn't here tonight. Leaning back slightly, he glances out the window over the kitchen sink at the dark rolling Pacific beyond and catches a glimpse of the softly glowing back porch light. His dinner jacket isn't draped over the back of the kitchen chair where he left it.

He smiles. He can see her in his mind's eye seconds before he actually opens the back door and finds her, just as he knew he would; sitting in moonlight on the bottom step, her heels cast off, her bare feet in the sand, the hem of her flattering wine colored dress fluttering lightly against her long legs, his dinner jacket draped around her shoulders, and her hair loose from its pins and tossed about; mussed by the ocean breeze.

Without comment, he descends the stairs on silent feet and settles in beside her. She's aware of his approach and instinctively folds herself in against his chest even before his arm is fully around her shoulders.

She's content to sit and watch the ocean in silence, and he's more than content to let her. He's unaware of the passage of time but despite the tranquility of the moment, he knows she's probably not. Unwilling to break their embrace he uses the toes of one foot against the opposite heel to kick off a shoe and then repeats the process. Aware of his movements regardless of the fact that her gaze is fixed on the ocean, she inhales deeply, splays her left hand across his chest and caresses him through his shirt front before leaning over only long enough to remove his socks and then she returns herself to his waiting arms.

With no reason to move, nothing to call them away, nothing to demand their immediate attention, they sit and watch the ocean engage in its timeless dance with the shore. Only when it feels right to add their voices to the sound of the waves tumbling in does he quietly began. "Well… We did it… finally."

Her laughter is the soft musical sound. "We did. It was… Nice."

He chuckles and pats her shoulder affectionately. "Just nice, huh?"

"I'm not complaining. I wanted to…" She tilts her head back without lifting it off his chest, and offers him a sweet smile. "Harm, please don't be disappointed but honestly… This right here… This is better. We could have skipped dinner altogether."

He flashes his best grin. "I feel like I did. The food was the only real disappointment."

"it was; wasn't it? Make reservations a month in advance to go to a place where they make you dress up in pretty clothes to eat a dinner that comes with a pretty price tag… And the food is… What? It wasn't bad. It was just…"

"Unimpressive. You barely touched your lasagna; just two or three bites."

She shrugs and wrinkles her nose. "Yours is better. How was your eggplant?

"Uninspired; as was the veggie plate. The best part was the pea salad, and it was nothing to rave about."

A look of apology washes over her face and pulls her mouth into a slight frown. Harm, I ate half of your pea salad."

"Ahem, excuse me… Ninja girl, you ate at least ¾ of my pea salad."

"Na uh!" she objects boisterously and nudges him playfully in a way that reminds him of their niece. "I did not… Oh wait… I did… Didn't I?"

"You did." He confirms quietly before stealing a tender kiss that claims a life of its own.

They let the embers of passion ignite slowly and burn lazily; neither of them ready for more just yet. When they part, she studies his face quietly for a moment before asking, "Hungry?"

"Yes, I am."

"Good! 'Cause I'm starving!" She stands, starts hurriedly up the steps, only to pause; and reach back for his hand as he comes to his feet. "I know there's shrimp. I took it out of the freezer tonight before we left, thinking we'd have it for lunch tomorrow. There's yellow rice and there are some veggie steamers in the freezer… I think we have some potatoes too if you want one baked… And ice cream too; java chocolate chunk… or something like that."

Arms around her waist, walking in lockstep with her, he laughs heartily at her enthusiasm as they cross the back porch.

* * *

Forty five minutes later their evening attire is badly wrinkled but she's happily sipping from a steaming cup of coffee while nestled in his arms on the living room sofa. He glances regretfully at their collection of dirty dishes on the coffee table. "Why did you make me eat all that?"

She'd tips her chin back awkwardly; resting her head in the curve of his shoulder. She rolls her eyes, but smiles up at him anyway. "Yeah, it's all my fault." She says dryly. "I force fed you! Why did we think going out to dinner was so important. I'd have been just as happy to stay home, right here in this spot without all the fuss. I could've worn my sweat pants, fluffy socks, and a T shirt."

"I thought it was important, because it was what you wanted."

"Yeah… But why?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. Because it's what people do. They get dressed up, they go out, they… show each other off."

"What people… Not us people." She says, unintentionally sounding a little silly, but he knows exactly what she means even before she continues. "Sure, I did that with other people. Sometimes it was fun. Mostly it just seemed necessary. With you… Might be fun, but it's just not necessary." She spreads her arms, indicating their surroundings. "This is better." She declares matter-of-factly.

She feels him nod. "I could've done without the pricey, undesirable first course, but I do like this part…" With his suit jacket draped once more over the back of a kitchen chair, he has easy access to the delicate straps the caress her slender shoulders. His touch is warm and his voice is only a husky whisper when he adds, "I like the sexy dress too."

She leans over, sets her cup down on the coffee table and then settles against his chest again momentarily before choosing to turn in his arms. Once they're facing each other, she eyes him thoughtfully for a time before offering, "Next time… Fancy clothes; not so fancy food?"

His words are slow to form and somewhat disjointed because the nearness of her body holds the lion's share of his attention, but he manages to chuckle quietly and answer as his fingertips find warm flesh left exposed by the backless dress "Sure… next time we'll get all dressed up and visit that little hole-in-the-wall shack you like… the one that serves fish tacos with horseradish sauce and greasy burgers."

With her lips inches from his she whispers, "Can I have your sauce for my fries?"

He smiles. "What is your obsession with eating my food? How about if we get you your own sauce?"

She thinks it over with mock seriousness and then slowly shakes her head. "Yours will taste better… It always does."

Not really surprised by her announcement at all, he sighs and surrenders. "Fine, you wear the dress… You can have the sauce."

"Pushover." She accuses mildly.

He shrugs. "Don't care. Long as you're going to help me burn off some of this food you made me eat."

She smiles wickedly. "I can do that."


	72. Chapter 72: What's Blooming

Chapter 72: What's Blooming

Arthur's note: We are still feet dry which I must to admit is a relief. Although life hasn't been very amusing lately, I can't claim that it's been boring either.

* * *

Saturday, February 23, 2008  
1326 HRS

Mac listens to the familiar outgoing ring tone of her iPad while she idly wipes down the kitchen counter and waits for her call to be answered on the other end.

When the call is connected, the on-screen image is somewhat out of focus and grainy because the mobile device that has received her call is obviously in motion. She smiles at her favorite blonde goddaughter who wears that familiar look of mild hesitation that is customarily on the toddler's face when she answers a call. She's reached the age where phone calls, even video calls, fascinate her greatly, and it is not surprising for her to answer eagerly; if somewhat timidly.

"Hi Jenny !" Max smiles brightly to put the blue eyed toddler at ease, and tosses her washcloth into the sink as she reaches for a nearby bottle of water. Mac settles onto a barstool and listens to the sound of Jenny's small feet hurrying across her living room floor while recognizable, but blurry images of the Roberts' home rush in and out of focus

"Hey Aunt Mac!" Jenny exclaims happily; her momentary shyness gone, evaporated without a trace. "Mama told me to bring you to her!" She says; her word slightly garbled by her excitement.

"Well, hold the iPad with both hands. Don't drop me!"

Jenny's bright eyes sparkle merrily as she giggles "I won't drop you!" The girl looks up from the screen, and yells. " Mama, it's Aunt Mac!"

"Yes, I know who it is." Harriet yells back; obviously not in the same room, but easily heard. "Stop running! Walk please… and don't drop my tablet!"

Within seconds, Mac watches images bounce wildly before they come to rest as the tablet in the child's hands is passed over to her mother. Harriett places the tablet in a nearby resting place where she can be seen on-screen and resume the task at hand, which is apparently patching the holes in the knees of one of her young son's blue jeans. Before the two friends can say anything to each other, Jenny appears on screen once more.

"Bye-bye Aunt Mac." The three year old blows a slightly uncoordinated air kiss. "I'm going upstairs to play now!" she announces happily. She disappears before either woman can comment; the sound of her small feet carrying her quickly away is heard from DC all the way to San Diego courtesy of modern technology.

Not bothering with 'hello', Harriet jumps right into a conversation without preamble; the way close friends are so often able to do. "Are you absolutely certain you want to do this?" She asks jiggling a denim pant leg about for affect. "It's all I can do to keep them in clothes. If they aren't growing out of them, they're ripping holes in them!"

Mac laughs. "Bring in on! I'm ready!"

Warm friendly laughter bubbles out of her friend. "No you're not! Trust me, no one ever is."

Mac nods and acquiesces. "I'm as ready as I can be, but never mind me; how are you?"

Harriet shrugs. "No good news yet. I'd call you if there were. I had a bit of a letdown last night… She hesitates briefly before continuing quietly… a rather disconcerting experience; a rapid heartbeat. There's a wide variety of pregnancy symptoms that can come and go with any woman, with the any pregnancy. However, that's one I haven't experienced previously. Went to see the doctor, hoping for good news. It seems I'm having a mild reaction to the immune-suppressive meds, but I'm okay. My doctor adjusted my dosage slightly and said I should slow down a little more; be lazy for a few days, and come back to the hospital immediately if new symptoms arise."

As she talks, Mac's look of mild concern shifts to absolute bewilderment. "Harriet, why didn't you call us last night? Do I need to get on a plane? Come look after you for a few days?"

Before Mac is finished voicing her questions, Harriett is waving erratically to get her attention and shaking her head vehemently. "No! Please don't do that! Bud is already hovering over me, like a nervous mother hen. He tried to cook breakfast this morning and nearly set the house on fire! I don't think I can survive both of you here, taking care of me. As it is, I can't wait for Monday when he has to go to work."

Mac can't help but laugh at the dread in her friend's voice. "Well… okay… if you're really sure you're alright… and if you do what the doctor said and take it easy. I know that's hard to do with four little ones running around. Why don't you let Harm and I pay for a part time housekeeper to ease your burden?"

"No No No! Make that a double No No No! If I have to slow down a little bit, if I have to let a few things go, then fine; I will. One way or another, you two are going to have a baby in the house soon enough. Save your money. You're going to need it."

Mac chews on her lower lip; torn between her own necessity to remain home, and her desire to do anything she can to help Harriett through this. "Okay… But only if you promise me that you're alright, and you have to call us immediately the next time something… and I mean, anything, happens."

"I'm fine! I swear. I didn't even have to stay at the hospital overnight. The doctor let me come home. There haven't been any more episodes; I promise. The doctors warned us something like this could happen; remember? Besides, we don't even know if the transplant took yet?"

Despite her doubt, Mac nods hesitantly and, fully intending to discuss the matter with Harm at the first available opportunity, she offers, "If you change your mind about the housekeeper, or even about me coming for a visit, just say the word."

Harriet rolls her eyes merrily, but nods anyway. "Okay. If I promise to give it serious thought, can we please change the subject? How are things at Chateau Rabb?"

Mac covers her mouth in an unsuccessful attempt to smother a giggle. "Laura is entertaining her grandparents and she's also giving Harm fits today. I went off to the grocery store and came home just in time to slip in and witness Laura explaining modern technology to Harm as if he were the village half-wit."

"Uh oh, do tell!" Harriet sets aside her mending, and leans toward on the sofa cushion, fully engaged in the conversation; and already grinning like the Cheshire cat from the childhood classic, Alice in Wonderland.

"Well, as I understand it, while I was gone she decided she wanted a coloring page. My printer has an Internet connection, and it also has several apps that allow me to print commonly used material easily without actually sitting down and logging onto a computer or mobile device. He'd never admit it, but the thing greatly intimidates Harm. You know how he is. He's grudgingly moving into the technology era at a snail's pace. So… when she asked him to get her a coloring page, his question was, "Where are your coloring books?"

Harriet shakes her head comically while Mac mimics Laura "Uncle Harm, nobody buys coloring books anymore. You just print coloring pages off the Internet for free."

So Harm picked up his iPad… "Okay Sweetheart." He said, patting the bar stool beside him; inviting her to climb up. "Show me where to look."

"Uncle Harm! You don't need that! You just push a button on Aunt Mac's printer. Then, you pick which kind of coloring page you want, push another button and the page comes out of the printer.

"Before she even finished, Harm was shaking his head wildly and waving his hands as if he's fending off an attack. "No way kiddo! You'll have to wait until she gets home. I'm not touching that monster. It prints all by itself!"

Laura rolled her eyes. "It does not Uncle Harm! It only prints what Aunt Mac tells it to print. She set it up that way. It prints what she says, when she says."

Harm looked at her as if she were telling a whopper of a fish tale…

So she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him across the living room, through the kitchen, to my desk in the corner of our bedroom and announced, "See, watch… I'll show you! After she made sure he was watching, she pressed a few buttons on the small display screen and abracadabra… presto… bing bang boom… One coloring page printed and ready for Laura's personal, artistic, flair."

"So Harm asked her, 'If you knew how to do that, why did you ask me to do it for you?"

"Laura rolled her eyes again and sighed dramatically. "Cuz Uncle Harm… I'm not allowed to touch the printer without a grownup watching me."

"So at that point, I make my presence known and explained to Harm that the reason the… monster… prints by itself, is because, as Laura explained, it's scheduled to print… NBC Daily News each morning while I'm getting ready for work, and various other things throughout the week. Laura's coloring pages don't print on a schedule, because she doesn't always want one at a specific time, but the app is there for convenience sake."

"He really finds it that astounding?"

Mac laughs freely. "Are you kidding? The first week he was here… I was in the shower at 0500. I turned around to find him peeking in the doorway with a sleepy, and somewhat nervous, look on his face.

"I think something's wrong with your computer Mac. Your printer just started by itself, I swear, I didn't touch it."

"Well, yeah Flyboy! It prints the top stories from the morning news so I can read them on the fly, or stick it in my briefcase and read it on my lunch break if I can't get to it in the morning. He nodded, and disappeared. Five minutes later, I found him back in bed and sound asleep with my two page news summary lying on his chest."

"Yeah, but that was six months ago. He still won't touch the thing?"

"No, I'm telling you Harriett, he calls it… The monster. Just last week, he figured out there is a calendar in his cell phone and that he can actually enter information into said calendar. He knows how to call, and he knows that a text. That's it. He still discovering new things he can do with the iPad we gave him when he had to go to London."

"You said she was entertaining her grandparents as well?"

"Yes, she wanted to give Trish and Frank Valentine's Day presents. She picked out pink gladiolas for Trish to plant, and she found some golf club covers that Frank wanted. While Frank was practicing his golf swing in the backyard, Trish invited her to come help plant the flowers. The bulbs have only been in the ground for nine days, and for the first three days Laura wanted to call multiple times a day to ask if the flowers were blooming yet, no matter how many times we told her it would be several weeks before they even began to sprout. So, she was on the phone telling all this to Chloe a few nights ago and Chloe told us about a photo app we can use to take a collection of still frame photos and turn it into a time lapsed video of the flowers' growth process. Laura got so excited that Chloe called Frank and told him how to set up his digital camera to automatically photograph the bed once every three or four hours. Then, in the evenings, after dinner, Frank emails us the day's pictures. He sends the e-mail directly to my printer, and the photos automatically print. Laura, Harm, Trish, and Frank are all having way too much fun with their new project. So far, we've got two dozen pictures of well-tended soil. That's it, but Laura is so decided that she has already asked her teacher if she can bring the video to class after the flowers bloom.

"Be sure to send me a copy of the video when it's done. That sounds like it will be beautiful to watch. Nicky will enjoy it. He's the only one of my bunch that likes to help me in the garden. His brothers, his sister; they all want absolutely nothing to do with it. They couldn't care less. If Laura can drag Harm into the modern age, maybe her enthusiasm for flowers will be contagious too. "


	73. Chapter 73: Idle Speculation

**Chapter 73: Idle Speculation**

**Author's note**: After reading the reviews for the last chapter, (they made me smile.) I had to throw this one in; just 'cuz. More soon.

Wednesday, February 27, 2008  
1542 HRS

Trish waits for both Laura and Candy to precede her through the open front door and then juggles grocery bags as she places the toe of her right shoe against the door to secure it while she works with keys from the lock. Awkwardly, she dances around the girl and her furry sidekick, on her way to the kitchen bar where she and drops the keys as she deposits her heavily loaded reusable shopping bags with a sigh.

"Darling, go change out of your school clothes. I'll get you a snack and have it waiting for you by the time you come back." She says when she notices Laura rounding the bar; no doubt making a beeline for the kitchen.

"I will in a minute Grandma. The new boy in class took Candy's lunch today. He fed it all to Georgie! So, Candy didn't get any lunch. She's hungry!" Laura declares obviously annoyed by the incident.

Trish begins emptying grocery bags and smiles as she listens to the sound of Laura opening the cabinet where the big Lab's food is kept and the subsequent sound of Candy's toenails clicking against the ceramic tile floor as she prances in happy anticipation. Curious, about Laura's comment she asks, "Who's Georgie?"

Partially hidden from view behind the cabinet door, and mildly frustrated, Laura answers. "Stray cat who hangs around the school." Then she orders loudly, "Get off me dog! I can't put food in the bowl with you jumping around like that!" When the dog's unhelpful behavior only lessens without stopping completely, Laura realizes she's said too much for the dog to fully comprehend what she wants and she grouses comically, "Get back Jack." After a momentary silence she orders more quietly, but firmly "Sit!" The prancing stops at once, but Trish can still hear the sound of Candy's happily wagging tail thumping rapidly against the bottom of the open cabinet door. "Stay!"

Trish begins putting food items away in their proper places she listens to the sound of Laura delivering a full bowl of food to Candy's feeding stand. "No! You stay! Wait… It's mine until I say it's yours… Okay… Now you can have it."

Kibble begins to crunch immediately, and without her hungry friend impeding her every movement, the cabinet door closes and Laura appears and returns to the opposite side of the bar within seconds.

"She forgets to listen when there's nothing in her tummy. I'll go change my clothes now." Trish nods and smiles as the girl crosses the living room in route to her bedroom.

Ten minutes later Laura returns dressed in purple denim overalls and a two-toned striped pink long sleeved T shirt so bright in color it's nearly painful to look at. She carefully climbs onto a barstool and immediately helps herself to a slice of the banana bread and the glass of milk waiting there for her. After washing down two bites, she glances at Trish. "What ya doing?"

Trish glances up from the tablet in her hands. "I'm looking for a recipe I want to try. I offered your dog half an apple a few minutes ago. I don't think she even chewed it. Swallowed it whole. Then she silently begged for the other half would those big warm eyes of hers."

Laura nods. "She always begs for more after she finishes eating her dog food; specially if somebody has food out. It's okay you gave her half an apple, but don't give her anymore. She's not hungry now." Laura grins. "She just wants to eat."

"Who is this new boy at school? "

Laura shrugs while she munches. "Name's Riley." She mumbles.

"Darling don't talk with your mouth full. It's just not ladylike."

Laura waits the necessary moment before answering further. "He wanted to play with Candy at recess and Georgie wandered over. He took the bag of kibble out of the basket on my walker. I yelled for him to only give her some of the food, but he dumped the whole baggie on a ground. It was weird, if another dog tries to take Candy's food, she'll snatch it, but she let the cat have it. She doesn't even like cats Grandma!"

Trish eyes the dog speculatively. "Maybe she knew the cat was hungry?"

Laura shrugs. "Dunno, maybe. Anyway, one of the teachers came and scared Georgie away. They don't like her hanging out at the school."

"They're just trying to keep you safe. You shouldn't play with stray animals. They might be sick."

"How come you picked me up at school today? Liam's mom was supposed to."

"Liam's mom wasn't feeling well. She thinks she has a stomach bug. She didn't want to expose you. If she's feeling better tomorrow you can go to Liam's after school."

"Did you find your recipe?"

"I did. It's a recipe for soup."

"Are you making it at my house, or yours?"

"Already knowing the answer she asks, "Which would you prefer?"

"Make it here. I wanna taste it."

Not the least bit surprised, Trish nods agreeably. "Well, then I think we'll add a roast chicken and some rolls. It's a vegetable soup. Your uncle will like it, but we can't have you and Aunt Mac wasting away for lack of protein; can we?"

"No way! We need meat! I love Uncle Harm; but he's still weird! I don't know how he doesn't starve to death."

Trish chuckles quietly as she begins the task of rinsing vegetables for chopping. "He's weird; is he?"

Laura nods emphatically; her dark eyes going wide. "Really weird! He won't eat meat… Plus do you know he's scared of Aunt Mac's printer?"

Trish squints in confusion. "Scared… of a printer."

Laura nods just as vigorously the second time around. "I don't get it either. I know he's smart. He fixes things. He builds stuff. He's making the house bigger; almost all by himself. He's a lawyer, and he flies airplanes too! So how come he won't touch Aunt Mac's printer?"

Trish doesn't need more than a second to think it over. "You're right Laura. He is smart. Aside from all the things you mentioned, he's got a degree in aeronautical engineering. Most likely, it's not the printer he's afraid of… It's your Aunt Mac!"

Trish smiles broadly and Laura eagerly returns the smile.

"From what I know of her, she likes her technical gadgets. She undoubtedly has that printer set up exactly the way she wants it. He's smart enough to know that he doesn't understand everything there is to know about it, and if he comes along and messes with it, it's possible he'll mess up the settings, and in doing so, seriously annoy your aunt. My son is smart enough to know better… at least… most of the time."

"Yeah, but he's smart enough to figure out how the thing works; right? I mean, if he really wanted to?"

Trish nods and smiles a knowing smile. "And, that's where the second problem lies Laura. He doesn't really want to."

"But why not?" Laura asks; obviously confused by her uncle's lack of curiosity regarding the home-office appliance in question. "

Trish's eyes begin to sparkle merrily, and she's only half joking when she answers, "Because it doesn't have wings."

"It's not supposed to have wings Grandma." Laura declares matter-of-factly and shrugs. "It's a printer."

Trish sets carrots, an onion, and a ½ a head of cabbage within easy reach of a cutting board. She pauses long enough to reach into a nearby drawer and select a knife. "I promise you Laura, if that thing had wings, he'd figure out everything there is to know about it; even if he had to take it completely apart to do it. He'd take it apart, study it from the inside out, put it back together again, and leave it looking, and working, better than it did before he started. However, you are quite right, it's just a printer. It's a mechanical device that does not have wings. Therefore, it is not worthy of any serious consideration. As far as your uncle is concerned, it's little more than high tech flotsam."

"What's flotsam?"

"Marine wreckage; the useless bits of junk that are left over after a shipwreck. Your uncle isn't much for computers, or anything that can be connected to them, unless we're talking about a highly computerized multi-million dollar aircraft that can be flown off the deck of a carrier. Then, you can't pry him away until he's explored, tinkered with, and touched, every inch of her; nose to tail… and don't be surprised if he talks sweetly to her."

Laura giggles. "Maybe he knows so much about Navy airplanes that he doesn't have room in his head for other machines."

Trish chuckles. "Don't let him hear you say that Laura. He'll probably like the idea so much that he'll start using it as his excuse. Finish your milk, and then go look on the back porch. I left a surprise out there for you."


	74. Chapter 74: Delightfully Warped

**Chapter 74: Delightfully Warped**

**Author's note**: For weeks now, I've been waiting for motivation to strike so I could pick up where I left off with the story. Earlier today, I was watching a segment of "One Minute with Sean" by motivational speaker Sean Stephenson.

The topic was… You guessed it… Motivation. His advice? Simple really. Stop waiting for motivation to move you. Go to where you need to be, do what you need to do, and motivation will follow. He went on to sum it up by saying, "Put your behind where your heart wants to be. Jump out of the nest and you'll learn to fly in on the way down, or… Jump in the lake and learn to swim on the way down.

So… Following said advice; I put my behind in the chair in front of my computer, put on my headset and mic, and just started talking. This is what came out. I hope you like it.

* * *

Wednesday, February 27, 2008  
1729 HRS

A tantalizing aroma greets her as she walks through her own front door, and Mac moans with pleasure, drops her briefcase and cover on top of the credenza and quick steps around the bar into the kitchen. Grabbing a handy pot holder from the countertop, she carefully lifts the lid of the large stock pot on the stove and inhales deeply. Slow simmering cabbage, carrots, tomatoes, onion, bell pepper, celery, red pepper, and garlic all mingle together to delight her taste buds and make her empty stomach grumble noisily.

Without comment, Mac visits the silverware drawer and then quickly helps herself to a teaspoon's worth of a sample.

Basting a chicken at the in-wall oven, Trish chuckles quietly when the Marine whimpers with what sounds very nearly like carnal delight. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Mac sets her spoon down on the stove top and approaches the oven curious to see what mouthwatering thing she will find there as well. She pauses long enough to drop a quick kiss of gratitude on the older woman's cheek. "Please do!" She says as she peers into the oven and smiles broadly. "I was just about to say, the only thing that soup needs… is some meat… But you anticipated that."

Trish nods.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're wonderful? I call you at the last minute because the babysitter's sick, and not only do you drop everything and show up, you even make us dinner. It was my turn to cook tonight. I promised Harm I'd give him a break. Now we both got one. Where's Laura?"

"It's no trouble. It's nice to have someone to cook for again. At home, with just me and Frank there, if I cook, half of it winds up in the garbage. It goes bad before we finish the leftovers. Laura's on the back porch. I hope it's okay, I gave her one of your old shirts to use as a smock. It already had paint stains on it, so I figured you wouldn't mind."

With no frame of reference for the last comment, Mac raises a curious eyebrow and walks over to peer out through the beveled glass window pane in the back door.

Musical laughter bubbles out of her, causing Trish to glance up from her dinner preparations just in time to see Mac open the back door.

"Laura. I'm no artist, but baby, I'm almost certain that you're supposed to put more paint on the canvas than on yourself!"

The seven-year-old turns away from the small child-sized easel in front of her and exclaims happily, "Aunt Mac, you're home! Look what Grandma brought over for me! I'm painting!"

Mac laughs again. "I see you're painting. Try putting more paint on the canvas, and less… everywhere else. She gestures wildly at the mess on her back porch as she talks.

"Don't worry." Laura lightly stamps her small sneakered foot against the old bed sheet covering the porch floor beneath her. Grandma said we could use this for a drop cloth so the porch won't get painted too."

Coming up beside Mac in the doorway, Trish peers out and laughs merrily at paint speckled face before her. "Laura, darling, you have paint in your hair, and what is Candy wearing?"

"That's her yellow doggie rain coat." Laura grins brilliantly obviously unconcerned with anything in her hair; paint or otherwise. "Now I can't get paint on her either. Even if I do, it'll wipe off. That way she won't need a bath…" Laura eyes the dog objectively and adds hesitantly, "Except for maybe her feet. "

Trish bites down on her lower lip fiercely to keep from laughing at the girl and nods her head encouragingly as she looks at the canine's pink splatter-painted feet. "That's good planning Laura. Are you having fun?"

Laura nods with exuberance as Trish gazes at bold flashes of pink in a variety of shades on the small beginner's canvas.

"Well then carry on! Don't let us impede the creative process!"

"Okay!" Laura declares eagerly and returns her attention to her masterpiece. As she takes up her brush again the girl begins to dance in place; swaying along with whatever upbeat tune is playing in her own mind.

As Trish steps away from the door to return to her work, Mac stands watching over her niece in silent awe for a few more seconds. Given her limitations, her dancing is somewhat stiff and awkward, and she doesn't seem to care at all where the paint lands on the canvas… or even off the canvas for that matter, but none of that concerns Mac. Her niece is safe, healthy, and happy.

When, at length, Mac does turn her attention away from the girl, she hugs Trish from behind and says, "Please don't think I'm not grateful. She's thriving… and you've played a very important part in that…"

The Marine's smile stretches ear to ear as she lightly chastises, "But Trish, you have got to stop buying her things. You're going to spoil her rotten!"

Trish shrugs. "All I bought were fresh paints and brushes. The rest of it… the canvases, the easel, the old sheet, the palette, the cleaning supplies… was already in the attic. I promise. I bought that easel decades ago for Harm. It's been collecting dust since two days after I bought it. He made it perfectly clear he had no interest in painting… none whatsoever. And it's tempera paint too… Washes off with soap and water. I figured that was a good place to start her off. I knew she was going to make a mess. But I was pretty sure she'd love it. I wasn't wrong. She's a natural. As a medium, tempera paint has very limited capabilities but, she's only been out there by herself for a little over an hour and she's already figuring out how to mix her own colors. That paint set only came with one shade of pink. I saw at least six new shades on the canvas… And I only gave her about 45 seconds worth of instruction. I figured I'd just let her dive in; get her own feet wet. Have some fun. We'll worry about technique later."

Trish pauses to shake her head. "But the dog in the rain coat! That's too cute! And it wasn't my idea either. I swear Mac, the way her mind works!" Trish begins to mimic Laura and laughs as she repeats. "Now she won't need a bath… Well, except for maybe her feet!" Trish shrugs. "I guess she needs doggie galoshes too."

Mac chuckles. "She has them. They came with the rain coat. She refuses to wear them. Hates them! I imagine they feel unnatural, and interfere with her ability to walk comfortably. If we put the ones on her front feet, before we can get even one on a back foot, she's taken the front ones off! Then she sits and gives everybody who's watching dirty looks. I'm sure I've said this before, but that dog loves a puddle, or a standing body of water of any kind, but she absolutely hates the rain. She doesn't want to go out to do her business when it's raining, and she's smart too. She didn't like the rain coat either at first, until she figured out that it would keep her at least partially dry. So now she tolerates it, but forget about the rain boots… It ain't happening! Not a chance! She'd chew them into oblivion we if we let her."

Trish nods; still chuckling. "She's cute too; although… she does look slightly like a large ripe banana with a tail while wearing that thing."

"I know… right? I told Harm the same thing. He told me that my imagination was warped."

Trish rolls her eyes as she declares with feeling. "He's warped!" then she shrugs again. "I suppose I should apologize for that. I'm sure it's somehow my fault. All I can say is… I did the best I could."

"You did wonderfully. So what if he's a little warped!"

At precisely that moment the front door opens and the man they are discussing walks through with a wide easy grin on his face. "Who's warped?" Certain he can guess who they are discussing he adds, "And what did you two do to make him that way?"


	75. Chapter 75: That's Just Messed Up!

**Chapter 75: That's just Messed Up!**

**Author's note**: Word of warning, I don't normally have allergy trouble, and yes, they were mowing the grass outside today, but that doesn't normally bother me. There must be something else in the air. Anyhow, voice recognition software seems to recognize a sneeze as the words "if the have." I did my best to edit, but if you come across this combination of words, or one very similar to it, in a place where they do not contribute to the story at all, that's what happened. I sneezed. My apologies. Taking a day or two off from the story is one thing, but I don't want to let myself get lazy just because the late August heat is uninspiring and take another month or two off. If I do that, this thing will never get written completely, and I don't like to disappoint people if it can be helped. So, grass, pollen, ragweed, and whatever else is out there, be damned… on with the story!

* * *

Wednesday, February 27, 2008  
1812 HRS

Harm rounds the bar and drops a kiss of greeting on his mother's cheek.

After which, she drops the small stack of plates and bowls she's holding into his hands. "Here, make yourself useful. Set the table, warped one."

His mouth stretches into his wide easy grin. "Do I get to kiss my wife first?"

Laughing as she begins to butter rolls warm from the oven, Trish feigns exasperation and teases. "Only if you can be quick about it."

Harm steps toward their small dining table muttering under his breath, only just loud enough to be heard. "Slave driver."

Mac steps near, goes up on tiptoe, and lightly delivers a kiss as he feels a warm oven mitt smack against the back of his head before it tumbles to the floor behind him. Chuckling quietly she breathes, "You deserved that."

Before he can make any comment at all, the back door opens and a very paint splattered little girl squeals, "Uncle Harm!"

He turns to greet his niece, throws back his head, and laughs loudly. "Sweetheart! What happened to you! You look like you got caught in the middle of some kind of freak explosion at the plant where they bottle Pepto Bismol!"

Hands on her hips, Laura stomps her foot and rolls her eyes. "Uncle Harm! I'm painting!"

Harm groans comically. "Oh no! Don't tell me! Is mom trying to force that ancient easel from her attic off on you?"

Trish scowls. Trying not to laugh, she warns her son. "Watch yourself boy; or the next thing I throw won't be an oven mitt."

Laura giggles. "Besides, I like painting! It's fun! So there!"

Harm shakes his head. "I certainly hope so. Otherwise, you've made a very big mess for no reason at all. Go wash up; dinner's ready. Try to watch as much of that off as you can before coming to the table."

Laura immediately turns and starts out in the direction of her bathroom. "Okay, I'm starved."

Watching her go, Harm steals another quick kiss from Mac. "When isn't she?"

As he begins to set the small table, Mac's phone begins to play a familiar ring tone. "Which one is that? Bud? Or Harriet?"

As worry invades her warm eyes; all the fun goes out of Mac's voice. Without even needing to glance at the phone, she answers. "That's Harriet. Something's wrong Harm. She never calls right at dinner time. To her, that's bad manners."

He stops what he's doing and moves toward her. "Relax. Don't jump to conclusions. It's not dinner time in DC."

"No, but she knows it's dinnertime here."

"Okay, so let's just answer the phone. We'll go from there."

She nods and fumbles with the phone in her pocket, feeling impatient with herself for not answering sooner. "Hello… Harriett?"

Harm watches her frown; watches her brow wrinkle. Then, she crooks her index finger in a 'follow me' gesture, and leaves the kitchen for the privacy of their bedroom.

When the door closes behind Harm, Trish picks up the basket of dinner rolls and goes to finish setting the table. When that's done, she finds herself unbearably anxious and realizes she needs a distraction. She knows she has to give them whatever time they may need; no matter how impatient she may feel. She crosses the living room and taps lightly on Laura's bathroom door. "Let me in darling. I'll help you clean up a bit."

* * *

In the master bedroom, Harm stares at the image of their friends who live on the other side of the country. Bud's arms are wrapped comfortingly around his wife. "Hi guys. Harriett, what's wrong. Are you okay?"

On screen, the pretty blonde swats at her husband's chest; smacking it lightly. "See, I told you they already knew something was wrong."

Bud tries to sooth her. "Honey, they aren't blind. You had the same look on your face that time the neighbor's puppy got out and ran out into the street in front of your car."

Harriet smacks her husband again; this time a little harder. "Oh Bud!" She wails. "Why did you have to go and bring that up?" She sniffles and collapses more deeply into his embrace.

As the couple in San Diego watches, they too, wind their arms around the other.

Determined not to cry, Mac bites down fiercely on her lower lip; deliberately inflicting pain and using it to distract herself from one more severe that begins radiating outward from her chest. She clears his throat and tries to smile, but she knows it looks brittle and forced so she stops. "It didn't take?" she says quietly, but It's not really a question; it's more of the statement.

Helplessly, Harriet shakes her head. It takes several seconds; several long seconds for her to find her voice, but when she does, she says. "I really thought it would work. I've had five babies. The one time somebody actually asks me to… I am so sorry guys.…"

Harm starts as Mac vehemently shakes her head. "Hey no! Stop right there…"

Mac finishes. "Don't you dare apologize. You have nothing to apologize for. Absolutely nothing!" She bites her lip again.

Harm picks up the thread once more. "We knew this was a possibility. We're thrilled that you tried. We thank you."

The sound of Harriet's unexpected laughter through her tears is painful. "God, don't be so damn nice about it; will you? That just makes me feel worse!"

Mac shrugs one shoulder as she clings to Harm. "Well, we certainly aren't going to be cruel… You're certain right?"

"God yes. I wouldn't put you both through this if I weren't. Yesterday morning when I got up… So I took one of those home tests. Then I saw the doctor this morning… Just to confirm."

In response to her words, they both nod. "Okay." Harm says. "We'll just…"

"Try again." Mac finishes; managing to sound braver than she feels. "It's no big deal. Even people who don't use surrogates usually have to try more than once."

* * *

At the other end of the small house, Trish gently scrubs paint off of an upturned face. After a few minutes, she'd teases, "Hey wait! That's not paint, that's a freckle!"

Laura giggles. "Grandma, don't wash away my freckles. I like them now."

"You like them now? You mean you didn't use to?"

She shakes her head adamantly. "Na uh. Dumb boys tease you if you have freckles. So, I didn't use to like them; not none at all."

"They do. Don't they? So… What changed your mind?"

"Uncle Harm. He said he thinks freckles are cute. He said, 'Don't pay any attention to dumb boys.' He said, 'Smart boys are better.' They don't tease girls about things that they don't have no control over."

Trish smiles proudly. "I'll tell you another secret, Laura. The smart ones don't get hit upside the head with heavy school books nearly as often as the dumb ones either."

Laura thinks this over for a moment. "I've never done that. I just told Lucas if he didn't leave me alone, Candy might bite him!" She pauses to shake her head vigorously. "Candy won't, but that's okay, Lucas doesn't need to know that! Grandma… Who did you hit on the head with a book? Not Grandpa Frank?"

Trish can't help but laugh and the hopeful expression on her face. "No, rest easy, I've never had to hit Grandpa Frank over the head with any school book. Though, I have smacked him from time to time with a rolled up magazine."

Laura giggles at the thought.

"When I was in junior high school, this awful boy, Curtis, used to tease me because I was the tallest girl in class. I was taller than all of the other girls, and even taller than a lot of the boys. Curtis use to call me things like Sasquatch… At least he did, until one day; I was at the bus stop after school and I let him have it; right upside the head with the biggest, heaviest, book I owned. It was a tome really; the complete collected works of William Shakespeare. It contained every play; not to mention, every sonnet the man ever wrote. I hit him hard enough to crack the spine of my book, and that made me so mad, I hit him again. I loved that book. Curtis Shipley never spoke to me again."

Laura eyes her grandmother with utter astonishment. "Did you miss him after that?"

"Heavens no! Why would I?"

Laura shrugs. "Liam teases me sometimes. I get mad at him too, but if I tell him to go away, then I start missing him. Liam is different though. I don't know why, but he is. I won't miss Lucas. He's a jerk."

Trish shakes her head. "Goodness, I didn't know eight year old boys were capable of being jerks yet."

Laura looks up at her; eager to clear up the misunderstanding. "Liam is eight. Lucas is nine."

"So, what you're saying is… a year makes all the difference?"

Laura lifts one shoulder in a shrug of uncertainty. "I guess so."

Chuckling, Trish says, "Come on darling. Your aunt and uncle should be off the phone by now. Let's go eat."

* * *

In the kitchen once more, Harm leans against the counter and crosses his feet at the ankles. He holds his wife in a casual, yet tender embrace with his arms draped loosely around her waist.

Mac murmurs into his shirt front. "We should send her some flowers. Cheer her up."

"If we do that, you know Harriet, she's gonna loose it; she'll cry all over the place."

"Yeah, at first. And then, she'll get over it, and enjoy the flowers. Harriet knows how to rebound. You can knock her down, but have you ever seen her fail to rise again?"

"Good point."

"Okay, I'll do it tomorrow. I know we told her everything was gonna be okay; that it would all work out. Now somebody needs to convince me of that."

Harm smiles sadly as he looks across the living room and shakes his head in response to the unasked question in his mother's eyes. As much to her as to the woman in his arms he says resolutely, "It will all be alright, everything will work out."

Laura crosses the room and climbs into the seat of her chair at the table, she picks up on the somber vibe in the atmosphere and looks around at all the adults curiously. "What?"

When no one says anything right away, she prods them again. "Somebody tell me."

Trish takes the seat on the opposite side of the table from the girl. Somebody needs to say the words, so she explains gently. "The science experiment didn't work. Harriet is not going to have a baby."

For a moment, Laura looks inexplicably stunned. She shakes her head as if it doesn't make sense, as if it's not possible. Then, she looks around the room at all three adults again and declares with vigor, "That's just messed up!"

The heartsick Marine in her uncle's arms suddenly laughs; catching them all by surprise. "You're absolutely right Laura! That's just messed up!"

The girl looks at the food on the table momentarily. Choosing between her empty stomach, and her family, Laura leaves her chair, enters the kitchen, and hugs her aunt.

Trish joins them long enough to pat her son on the shoulder and kiss the top of his wife's head affectionately before she decides to busy herself with putting the soup on the stove into a tureen to make serving more convenient.

For a short while, no one says anything. They are content just to be close to one another. Until, at length, Laura looks around the room and asks an unexpected question. "Where is Grandpa Frank?"

"He's in Dallas, darling."

"Where's that? And why did he go there?"

Harm chuckles. "Dallas is a large city in Texas, and if I know Frank, he's at some car conference, convention, or what have you."

Trish nods.

Laura frowns; obviously perturbed by this fact. "Well, when's he coming back? And why didn't he tell me he was leaving?"

Mac laughs quietly and runs her fingers through the girl's hair with affection. "Are you under the impression that he has to run such things by you?"

Laura squints as if the answer should be obvious. "Well, course I am. He's is MY grandpa. He doesn't get to go away without telling me so. That's not fair! He wouldn't like it if I went camping in the desert for a whole week, and I didn't say goodbye first."

Trish shakes her head adamantly. "Laura, you're absolutely right, he wouldn't care for that at all. I'll have to have a talk with him the next time he calls."

Sensing that things are better, Laura moves back to the table, and everyone else just sort of follows.

Helping herself to a roll and munching as Harm sits down in the chair beside her and begins dishing soup into her bowl she asks, "So what you gonna do now?"

He kisses the top of her head. "We're gonna try again. That's what we're going to do."

Laura nods; picking up on his positive attitude. "With Skates."

"Yes." Mac affirms as she takes the seat on the opposite side of the table beside Trish. "With Skates. We'll call her tomorrow. "

For a few moments, they are quiet; each of them busy helping themselves to food.

Harm is surprised when after they've all had a few bites, Mac sets down her spoon, laces her fingers together under her chin and begins to chuckle quietly. He simply raises an eyebrow and she supplies the answer to his silent question. "I know Skates said she was on board with this, and so far Keeter has been nothing but supportive, but given their budding romance, I wonder if he's given any conscious thought to the fact that in order for her to undergo a transplant… one that might very well impregnate her with his best friend's child… he's going to have to stop…" Mac chooses her next words carefully. "Spending time… with her... at least for a while?"

It takes Harm half a beat to pick up on Mac's meaning, while Trish immediately, and with forced calm, sets down her knife and fork, then closes her eyes, covers her mouth with her napkin and begins to tremble with silent laughter.

She manages to hold it captive until Mac declares, "Oh God! I can't wait to tease him about this. This is going to be so much fun!" At which point, Trish gives up and lets go. She and Mac clasp hands and laughs with complete abandon.

Young Laura turns to her uncle, obviously confused. "I don't get it. What's the big deal?"

Harm's quiet chuckle is barely heard beneath the noise from the other side of the table. "The big deal, is that your aunt is one twisted woman."

He flashes his best grin and winks at his wife. "And you two call me warped?"


	76. Chapter 76 -Who's Got Your Back?

**Chapter 76-Who's Got Your Back?**

**Author's note:** Sorry for the minor delay guys. Had this chapter all ready to go and then the site bottomed out. Couldn't connect to the server for three days… Then I'm misplaced the chapter. It's been a comedy of errors over here today!

Trevor, no Laura and Candy tonight, but I know you like Jen. So, I think this will hold you over. Their coming. Just a little patience please, and thank you in advance.

If anybody cares to know, as of one week ago today, I'm officially one year older, and all the birthday cake is finally gone. Three different birthday cakes arrived courtesy of different family and friends. I gave one away to a very good neighbor. Gave her the whole cake. As for the other two, every time someone walked in the door, I handed them a piece of cake. Today, the last piece was stale. So, I gave it to Miss Dandy Candy. I swear, judging by her reaction, you might have thought stale birthday cake was better than chocolate, sex and a Hawaiian cruise all rolled together!

* * *

Monday, March 17, 2008  
1347 HRS

Joint Legal Services Office - San Diego

Petty Officer Jennifer Coates answers the ringing phone at her desk and before she can get through with her standard greeting, a very familiar male voice says, "It's me Jen. Is she in?" He can hear the smile in her voice when she answers. "Yes Captain, she's here and I'll get her for you right now if you really need me to; if it's important enough. If it can wait, even for just a little while, then I respectfully suggest you do. Two of our senior staff, opposing counsel on the Berryman case, got into a dust up today in open court." Jen drops her voice to an even more discreet volume level than the one she was already using. "They're kind of getting their sixes chewed right now."

Harmon Rabb doesn't know whether to groan or laugh so, he winds at making a noise that is somewhere between the two. "That's okay. I can wait. When they come out of the Lions' den, give her 10 minutes of downtime. Don't let anybody in there. Then, when you do go in, take a cup of coffee and chocolate too, if you've got any. Tell her I called. Remind her that we still have that thing this evening after work. Plus we have a new thing, tomorrow at lunchtime… If that timeframe works for her. If not, we can change it."

Jen idly doodles on a notepad as she listens. She recites back what she heard; paraphrasing slightly. "Thing today after work; new thing at lunchtime tomorrow. You want to elaborate on that at all?"

Harm chuckles. She'll understand 99% of that. She knows what's planned for this evening. As for tomorrow at lunch, just tell her it's prep work for Laura. She'll get it."

Petty Officer Coates repeats quietly, more to herself than to him. "Prep work for Laura. Okay, I'll pass on the word."

Fifteen minutes later, armed with a steaming mug filled with Marine grade sludge from a fresh pot she taps lightly on the door to her commanding officer's inner sanctum.

"Come in. Says a woman obviously wary of the day's interruptions. Coates pokes her head in the door. "Bad time Colonel? I come bearing a gift." She holds up the porcelain mug; putting it on display.

"Coates, come in, come in, gimme that!" Mac actually manages a smile. "How do you always seem to know when I need this? Close the door please "

Doing as directed, she answers. "Practice Ma'am; lots and lots of practice. Although… " She pauses long enough to hand over the cup. "In all honesty, it wasn't my idea this time."

The Marine raises an eyebrow as she sips hot black brew cautiously before commanding, "At ease Coates.

The younger woman smiles politely and settles one hip on the arm of a nearby guest chair "Since you cut back on the java, I haven't quite worked out yet when I should, and when I shouldn't bring you a cup, but I'll get there. The captain called Ma'am. The coffee was his idea. He asked that you call him back at your convenience. He also asked me to remind you about a thing after work today and he also says there's a new thing at lunch tomorrow, if that works for you. Something about prep work for Laura. I assume you know what that means?"

Mac rolls her eyes and then follows up with a quick nod of her head. "I swear, that man!" Her smile belies the mild irritation in her voice. Does he honestly think I need to be reminded what we're doing this evening?" in response to the junior officer's curiously raised eyebrow, she waves away her own question. "Our embryonic transplant with Commander Hawkes; never mind, he's just excited."

"I imagine you both are Ma'am."

Mac nods. "For some reason, I think it's even worse this time around. The first time, with Harriet, we were excited. Oh God, were we excited, but it was also new; completely new. I think we were both more than just a little scared too. Now, we know what to expect, I feel just like a kid sneaking out of her room at 3:00 AM trying to catch Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and The Tooth Fairy all on the same night."

"And tomorrow Ma'am; if it isn't impolite of me to ask?"

Mac shakes her head and smiles but lowers her voice an octave anyway, in spite of the fact that her door is already closed. "We haven't discussed this with anyone outside of our family yet, so don't pin it up on a bulletin board or turn it into fodder for the water cooler grapevine. We haven't even told Laura yet, but Harm and I went to see a lawyer who specializes in child custody cases. If it's at all possible, we intend to keep Laura even after my sister's release. We both want to adopt her. Make it official."

"Based on what little I've seen, and what little you and Captain Rabb have told me; I can't imagine it will be difficult."

"On the contrary, I expect my sister to do everything she possibly can to make it difficult. That's why we're starting now, while she's still locked up. The lawyer we talked to said it would be an excellent idea to have Laura evaluated by a child psychologist. That's what we're doing tomorrow at lunchtime. Although, if Harm called about that, the appointment got pushed through a lot more quickly than I thought it would. It doesn't matter though, we're going. But that means tonight, after we get through at the doctor's office, we have to go home and explain all this to Laura. I wish I knew for sure how she's going to take the news."

"Are you kidding, Laura loves you guys. I'm sure you're worried about nothing. I bet she's going to think it's her birthday, Christmas, New Year's, and Saint Patrick's Day all in one." Coates laughs at herself. "Hey, I just realized, it is Saint Patrick's Day. Maybe you'll have the luck of the Irish on your side. After all, her last name is O'Hara."

"I'd love to be that optimistic. I just can't. You had it rough growing up too. Don't you remember. You can get use to anything; even the bad things because you have to. It's the only way to survive. Then, no sooner than you get used to it, somebody comes along and changes things. Even if things change for the better… "

Coates nods. "You get scared because you're afraid to trust in the good things, and when you get scared, you get mad. After you get through being mad, you get worried about the things you did when you were busy being mad; and that makes you mad all over again. Pretty soon, you don't know whether to be mad at the situation, or mad at yourself, and that just makes you feel like a world class screw up, and then you hate yourself, and the vicious cycle just spirals."

Mac nods.

"God! Colonel, I so do not miss those days."

"Preaching to the choir Jen; preaching to the choir. Even as good as things are now, sometimes I still have to fight the impulse to slide back down there."

"I'm confident you'll pull her through, no matter what her initial reaction is. Just go slow, and tag team it with the captain. If you get stuck… don't know what to say or do… Let him run point for a minute until you get your bearings back. He's got your back now."

Mac shakes her head in astonishment. "Actually Jen, he's had my back for nearly a dozen years. Thanks for the reminder."


	77. Chapter 77: TREAT!

**Chapter 77- TREAT**

**Author's note:** Okay guys, I'm going a little batty down here Texas way. I've had serious wheelchair problems for four months; I've been stuck in the house for four months going nowhere further than to walk the dog. I'm babying the chair, hoping it will hold out until they bring the parts to fix it. They're supposed to be here a week from today with parts. However, they were supposed to be here on August 14 with the same parts and they waited until the morning of the 14th to call and cancel. I'm telling you, if someone doesn't bring me a properly functioning wheelchair soon, I'm going to start shooting people… At least that's my nightmare anyway. The girl at the office keeps telling me she understands my frustration. She doesn't understand anything. If she knew what it was like to be stuck in the house for even one month, this problem would've been fixed three months ago. Thank God for my dog, and my housekeeper. The two of them together are not only the only consistent company I have had, but it's my housekeeper who is taking care of all of my responsibilities that have to be dealt with the outside these walls. I'm seriously considering nominating the woman for sainthood.

* * *

Monday, March 17, 2008

2019 hours

Rabb residence

Harm opens the front door and calls out,"Who wants pizza?" expecting a calamitous reply as he lets Mac enter ahead of him. When he is greeted with no such reply, he gives his wife a puzzled look, to which she shrugs in response. He sets the two extra-large pizza boxes on the kitchen counter and is about to head for Laura's room in search of the girl when both he and Mac hear her distant laughter coming from outside on the beach. As they open the back door, they hear her call out in protest, "Hey, dumb dog! Bring me my bucket back!"

Hand in hand, the pair of military lawyers walk down the back porch steps looking both left and right, taking in the sight of an elaborate half-finished sand castle, Laura and Frank, both of them in lightweight sweaters and windbreakers, and both of them on their feet chasing after a happy wet black Labrador retriever running at the water's edge with a child's plastic sand bucket dangling by its handle from her mouth.

Laura trots along clumsily where the sand is wet and hard packed until she decides she's had enough. Giving up, she shakes her head in mild exasperation. "You can stop Grandpa. It's dumb to chase her." She calls out to Frank who is several feet ahead of her. "The more you chase her, the faster she runs!"

Frank stops stands bent slightly at the waist painting. Meanwhile, the dog continues to run until Laura pats the pockets of her windbreaker to be certain she has what she needs and shouts, "TREAT!"

Candy stops running so quickly that she almost tumbles and rolls before abandoning her stolen bright red bucket; coming about and returning to her companion's side almost twice as fast as she left it.

Laura returns her small hand and the treat that's in it to the safety of her pocket "Uh uh! No way! You go get my bucket!"

Because she doesn't understand, the dog sits with happy eyes and twitching tail and stares pointedly while she waits for the hand to be removed from the pocket.

Realizing that she has said too much, Laura sighs, frustrated with herself, removes most of the words from her command, and tries again. "Candy, get bucket!"

The dog looks first to the point at the very end of Laura's extended finger. Once she determines by licking said finger that there are no treats to be had, she looks to where her young mistress's free hand points and decides the bucket is too far away, so she stays and whimpers with pleading eyes.

Laura won't give in. "No! Get bucket!" she growls.

Candy gives in reluctantly and slowly ambles away; looking back over her furry shoulder. She takes her time until she reaches the bucket, then picks it up and dashes back at top speed.

Laura takes the bucket, and finally relinquishes a reward. "Silly girl. Why do you keep on running away with my bucket?"

Supposing he knows the answer, Harm stoops slightly, leaning toward his wife's ear and whispers loud enough to be heard by all "So she can get a treat for bringing it back."

Laura eyes the dog skeptically. "Na uh! That's messed up! You really think so Uncle Harm?"

He kneels in the sand, flashing his best flyboy grin, and motioning for the girl to come to him. "Yep! I really think so. Look, either you chase after her, which she thinks is fun, or you get tired of chasing her, so you offer her a treat to come back, which she also thinks is fun. Either way, she wins. I know you're just frustrated and you don't really mean it, but I think you're going to have to stop calling her a dumb dog. She's smart, so smart in fact, that she's working you; instead of you working her."

Laura grins at the dog, "is that what you're doing?"

In reply, Candy simply wags her tail.

Laura groans, and then giggles. "Well… No more treats for you!" she scowls and sticks her tongue out at the dog.

Harm hugs the girl. "You go on in the house with Aunt Mac and Grandpa. I'll dry Candy off before she comes inside. There's pizza on the counter.

"Pizza?" Laura's eyes go wide with surprise "Did you get me the Bambino with everything on it except the stinky little fishes?"

"Of course I did. I got you an extra-large to share with Mac."

"Cool!" she hugs him hard, and then trots away as quickly as she can.

Taking hold of the dog's collar so she can't charge up the back steps into the house wet, and leading her slowly; restraining her eager progress, Harm calls out, "is it too much to ask that you don't start without me?"

In perfect unison both Laura and her aunt reply, "We'll try, but you might better hurry."

Chuckling, Frank tosses his stepson a beach towel, from the back porch railing and takes one for himself, offering to help dry Laura's four pawed companion before they allow her entry back into the house.

* * *

**Author's note:** I don't know if there's a problem with my microphone, or if it's my stopped up sinuses that are causing the problem, but voice recognition software is really fighting me tonight for every sentence. Seriously, it took me a nearly 2 hours just to get this short chapter down. I'm going to take a break, get a snack, take some allergy medicine, and tinker with my computer and the mic a bit. I'll see if I can make things better. If I can, I'll be back tonight. Go ahead and review if you want. I'll start a new chapter and then clean it up later after the story is complete.


	78. Chapter 78: Anyone for Pizza?

**Chapter 78: Anyone For Pizza?**

**Author's note:** Okay, I'm back, but probably not for long. I surrendered and took a Benadryl. That means that in about 45 minutes I'm going to be unconscious. Big smile! Stuff knocks me out. The good side is that I'll sleep no matter how congested I am. I switched to my Typhoid Leigh voice file. I have two separate voice files; one for normal days, and one for when I'm congested. I also discovered another problem. One of those three wonderful, miraculous human beings that my brother sired has been playing with my computer. They had the volume turned up as loud as it would go. Although I don't usually have the television, radio, or any other constant sound playing while dictating, so I didn't know the volume was turned all the way up. For some reason, that interferes with the accuracy of voice recognition. Maybe that electronic hum one hears when the volume is all the way up and the radio is playing also interferes with speech pattern recognition.

* * *

Monday, March 17, 2008  
1940 hours

Rabb residence

"Laura baby, take smaller bites, and chew more slowly." The Marine winks at her niece from across the table.

Laura nods dutifully and picks up her slice of pizza again. Before she can help herself to another bite she glances sideways at her uncle; "Where are Skates and Keeter ? Did you invite them over for supper?" "

He flashes his wide easy smile and squeezes her shoulders affectionately. "Sweetheart, of course we invited them. They opted to go back to Keeter's place tonight. Skates is tired."

Again she sets down her food. "Aww man!" she declares as if she's being deprived of something. "I wanted to see them tonight. "

Harm picks up his napkin and chuckles quietly behind it. "We know Sweetheart. They're coming over this weekend instead. Skates has had a pretty big day. It's not every day that a woman offers to be a human incubator for somebody else's child."

Laura thinks about this for a split second and nods affirmatively before squinting. "Yeah, I guess so. You guys think it's gonna work this time?"

"We sure hope so. Mac answers.

Having been called away earlier in the day to deal with what one of her young staff called a miner crisis at the gallery, Trish has only just arrived as they were sitting down at the table to explain that the young lady's minor crisis was really nothing more than a minor annoyance.. She smiles at her granddaughter as she sips from a glass of iced tea. "Darling you've got sand in your hair. Didn't you wash up before coming to the table?"

"Laura nods emphatically. Yes Ma'am, but it didn't wash my hair. Mrs. Harrell makes me and wash up too. Well, just my hands and face usually." The girl giggles happily. "Most of the time, she makes Liam get undressed on the back porch before he's allowed to come inside. He has to come in only wearing his T shirt and underwear 'cause he gets so dirty! Plus, he likes creepy crawly things too. He puts them in his pockets. His mom; she's not like Aunt Mac. Mrs. Harrell hates bugs, spiders, and lizards, and especially snakes. She stands at the back door and yells at him. "Liam Harrell, don't you dare come in my house before you empty your pockets… And take your clothes off! I swear, I'll never understand how you can get so filthy… And in just half an hour too!

Liam always says, 'Awww Mom! Not cool!' Like she's being super unfair."

Trish closes her eyes as her shoulders began to tremble with silent laughter while she tries to set down her glass of tea without spilling it. Without comment, Mac reaches to her left and offers a helping hand.

Laura scowls with confusion. "What? What's so funny? I wasn't trying to be funny."

Mac gives that girl a reassuring smile. "My guess is, Trish is familiar with that particular tone of voice. "Awww Mom!"

Without opening her eyes, she nods affirmatively; hopelessly unable to contain the laughter that is no longer silent. She waits several seconds before voicing a response. "I do remember checking his pockets on occasion, but I don't think I ever made your uncle undress on the back porch! I can also recall making him take his shoes off more than once."

Laura giggles. "It happens every day at Liam's house. Sometimes, she says she's going to watch him off with the water hose. And one time, he put some kind of caterpillar in his pocket and he forgot about it. His mom reached in his pocket when she was doing the laundry and the worm spit this gunk on her hand. It made her fingers burn. So now she makes him empty his own pockets… every day. He's not even allowed to come inside until he does."

"Liam sound like a handful!" Trish declares.

"Liam's a fun kid!" Mac says with feeling. He and Laura remind me of me and Eddie when we were kids. We always washed each other off with the water hose before going inside. There was never any shortage of interesting creepy crawlers to find in the desert. We probably spent more than half our childhoods covered in dirt. We'd leave the base, and ride our bikes out to this place near the mesa. We'd be gone for hours; especially on the weekends. Then we'd come back and hose each other down. His mom would have grounded him until Armageddon if he dared to bring all that muck and grime into her house. She had…"

Mac pauses to play with her fork idly.

"Issues with dirt. She didn't care about the bugs, or even the snakes. But I don't remember a time when her house didn't smell strongly of mothballs and bleach. You could see your reflection in every reflective surface in that house, eat off the floors, and there was never a speck of dust anywhere. Nobody wore shoes in that house. Eddie had to take the trash out three times a day; every day and no food or drink was allowed anywhere but the kitchen… not ever. The first day I went over there, I showed up with a candy bar sticking out of my pocket. When he saw it, he said, 'You either have to eat that before you come in, or you'll have to leave it in the kitchen. My mom will freak!' So I shrugged and gave him half."

She stops again, this time to laugh at some memory before biting into her slice of pizza.

"He used to tease me about it. 'Sheesh Sarah! Every time I see you, you've got food in your pockets! My mom would boil you in lye soap and burn your clothes if she knew that!' We had a deal with each other. He didn't tell his mom what was in my pockets, and I shared my stash with him whenever she wasn't around."

Laura gives her aunt a look of prickly uncertainty and says softly; almost apologetically. "Aunt Mac… That's kind of weird."

Mac reaches across the table and pats her arm affectionately. "I know it was baby. Eddie and I grew up kind of weird. His mom had problems, and both my parents did too. He and I, we just did the best we could. We tried to forget about things when we weren't at home… have as much fun as possible. We did the best we could to help each other survive when we were at home."

Laura nods her understanding and shrugs simultaneously. "Liam was never allowed to go to my mom's house. His mom wouldn't let him, but she said I could come over their house anytime I wanted. Me… I don't get that dirty… At least not usually. And Mom didn't care if I walked around with cookies in my pockets all the time. She doesn't like to cook. I'd yell 'Mom! I'm hungry!' She yell back, 'Get you some chips or something.' I'd yell, 'But I don't want chips! Are we ever going to have real food for supper in this house?' She'd get mad at me. 'We do eat real food!' 'Na Uh! We do not! We eat party food! I'm hungry! I want mashed potatoes and meatloaf with carrots, or even disgusting broccoli… cuz I'm hungry!' You had to say it like four times before she would hear it. Her idea of the cooking supper, was putting stuff on crackers. Stuff like ham and cheese, or peanut butter, or -if she had money- olives and barbecue sauce with that cream cheese stuff."

Harm makes a face of pure disgust. "Olives and barbecue sauce?"

Laura nods emphatically and sips iced tea before answering, "If you can fit it on a cracker and stick a toothpick in it, my mom calls it supper!"

Harm and Mac share a quiet look with each other; one that does not go unnoticed by their niece.

"What? You guys are doing that talking without talking thing that nobody but you understands."

Harm smiles and reaches over and pats her on the back. "never mind, we'll talk about it later… Eat your pizza."

Laura shrugs, nods happily, and takes a big bite of pizza, as across the room, the end of Candy's wagging tail thumps noisily against the baseboard as she lays on her side asleep on her giant pink and brown spotted pillow, all four of her feet running in place as the dog chases after something in her dreams.


	79. Chapter 79: Bedtime Chat

**Chapter 79: Bedtime Chat**

**Author's note:** Okay, I think you guys will get a kick out of this. I certainly did. As of this month, I've had my dog for eight years and she still manages to surprise even me with how smart she is. A while back, I've forgotten exactly when, she somehow got hold of a banana. She tried to eat it despite the fact that it was unpeeled. Apparently, she didn't care for the experience at all. I found a banana lying on the kitchen floor all but mashed to a pulp with nearly liquefied banana oozing out of one of the split places in the peel that had rapidly browning teeth marks in it.

So, today I'm sitting at my work table trying to decide on a design for a new piece of jewelry, when suddenly I hear the very recognizable sound of my dog's front feet pawing the kitchen counter top in an effort to reach something that is set too far back on the counter for her to grab. I yell, "Candy, off now!" I hear her drop to the floor and leave the kitchen. I return my attention to the necklace laid out before me only to look over a few minutes later and find my dog waiting patiently beside me with a banana in her mouth. Once she has my attention, she stands up on her hind legs, puts her front paws on the arm rest of my chair, and drops the banana in my lap. She drops into with down\stay and proceeds to stare at me expectantly. So, I ask, "What, you want me to peel it for you? Suddenly, she's on all fours happily spinning in circles and wagging her tail. Rotten dog! Yes, I waited until I finished my crafting to peel the banana for her. Dogs have really short attention spans, so if you wait half an hour, whatever they did or didn't do is gone from their minds. (I don't want to reinforce an improper behavior. She'd be putting her paws on the kitchen counter all the time if she learned to associate, "go get the banana" with "get a treat".) She got two bites and the rest is in a baggy in the fridge waiting to be combined with her next meal.

Monday, March 17, 2008  
2058 hours

Rabb residence

Laura comes out of her bathroom freshly bathed and wearing her favorite nightgown; the one with the little chick who wears the black frame glasses on it. She turns to enter her bedroom until Harm calls, "Hey, come here for a minute."

He and Mac are nestled together on the living room sofa and he scoots over a bit making room for the girl between the two of them and pats the sofa cushion.

Laura eyes the two of them curiously. Something is on their minds. She wonders out loud. "Are we reading in here tonight?" When they glance at each other; conferring silently before nodding, she smiles. "I'll go get my book; be right back."

A minute later she climbs up on the sofa, and settles "The Wind in the Willows" on her lap. She gently tugs at both of them until each moves nearer and she's snug in the middle; with barely enough room to wiggle.

Before she can open the book, Mac leans forward, picks up a small saucer containing some of Trish's almond cookies from the coffee table and sets it on top of the book.

Laura smiles eagerly but also raises an eyebrow, "These are my favorite, but I already had my dessert tonight. How come I get more; what's up?"

Harm smiles and pats the top of her head. "We need to talk to you about something."

Holding a single cookie in both hands, about to bite into it, Laura stalls and groans. "What'd I do?"

Mac giggles quietly, and squeezes the girl's shoulders. "We've told you before, just because we want to talk to you doesn't automatically mean you did anything wrong."

Laura passes a look of uncertainty between the two of them, shrugs and attempts to bite into her cookie for the second time when a new thought occurs to her. "Wait, what'd you guys do?"

Harm wedges his fingers between her side and her arm and tickles her ribs. "Who says we did anything?"

Laura squirms and giggles but gently pushes his hand aside as she studies their faces one more time. She shrugs, "You guys look weird. Somebody did something. If it wasn't me, then it must've been you guys."

Smiling, Mac tilts her head from side to side as she considers Laura's logic and then nods ever so slightly; signifying her approval. "Laura, we went to talk to a lawyer."

Laura squints; obviously confused. "Uh hello, you guys are lawyers."

Laughing; Harm nods. "Yes, but we went to see a lawyer who specializes in child custody cases."

Laura frowns. "Why? Skates is nice. If she has a baby for you guys, I don't think she would try to keep it for herself."

Harm shakes his head. "That's not what we're concerned about."

Laura pauses long enough to finally bite her cookie. She chews for a minute and then covers her mouth when she mumbles, "So, what are you concerned about."

"Were thinking about you." Mac kisses the top of the girl's head. "If we can get a judge's permission, we want you stay with us… If that's okay with you."

"Uh guys, I'm already with you. I live here."

"Yes, but my guardianship of you is only temporary, just until your mom is released from jail. Then, we'll have to go back to court to decide who you stay with. I'm saying… We're saying… we want you to stay with us permanently. Harm and I want to adopt you Laura."

Puzzled, Harm watches curiously while Mac looks on as if she expected the sudden flicker of pure joy in the girl's eyes that is extinguished all too quickly by a dark cloud of worry.

Crestfallen, Laura shakes her head slightly and whispers sadly. "You guys are just worried the science experiment won't work again."

Absolutely stunned; Harm's mouth falls open while Mac reaches over and gently places a fingertip under her chin. She lifts the girl's downcast eyes to meet her own. "No, absolutely not. Do you hear me? That is not what this is about. We are doing this for you. Laura, you are not anyone's consolation prize!"

"I'm not?"

"You most certainly aren't." Harm finds his voice.

Laura nods; receptive but still looking small and scared. She cocks her head to one side and looks up at him. "What's a consolation prize?"

"It's a prize that a game show host gives to a person who played the game, but didn't win. They'd do it so there are no hurt feelings… or to console the losers. It's what the game players get, when they didn't get what they really wanted. But, you are not that. You are not a replacement for anything, or anyone… And don't you ever let anyone treat you like you are. No person should ever be treated that way. Yes, Mac and I want a baby that is biologically ours. We do want one; very much. We want you too. We want you if we never have a baby… And we still want you even if we have ten babies. We'll never ask you to be anyone's stand-in."

"Who should I be?" Laura swivels her head, glancing at both of them in turn; feeling somewhat better.

Mac laughs. "Just be Laura."

"I already am."

"We know, and we love you… Just the way you are.

The girl takes a deep, trembling, breath. "No more living with Mom?"

Mac wobbles her head from side to side in a gesture of uncertainty. "Well, just because we want to adopt you, doesn't mean it's a done deal yet. A judge has to say that it's okay. Your mom has to say that it's okay… Or a judge has to decide that he or she doesn't need your mom's permission."

Laura squints. "I don't think Mom will say it's okay. Maybe if you asked Judge Wayne… I don't think he liked my mom very much."

"We'll have to ask whichever judge gets assigned to the case. But, the lawyer we talked to suggested that it would be a really good idea if while we were getting ready to adopt you, we had you evaluated by a child psychologist."

"Who's that?"

"A child psychologist?" that's a doctor who talks to kids… Usually they talk to kids about things that might be bothering them, but sometimes they talk to kids to help out with situations like yours… You know, when the kid needs a better home… A safe place to live. We have an appointment tomorrow to go see a Dr. Melinda Upshaw. She wants to talk to you."

"I have school tomorrow."

"We know." Mac says. "Harm talked to your principal today. We're going to come and get you out of class on our lunch break tomorrow. We're gonna go see the doctor so she can meet all of us and get to know you."

"What's she gonna talk to me about? What's she gonna ask me?" You guys are coming too; right?"

"Hey, you bet." Harm squeezes her shoulders. "We're not going to leave you alone with some stranger. I talked to her on the phone today. She sounds like a very nice woman. She's probably gonna ask you stuff about your mom… And probably some stuff about us too." He nods.

"She's gonna ask me about you?" Laura frowns. "What am I supposed to tell her? She looks up at them expectantly.

Mac smiles. "Just answer her questions honestly. It doesn't matter what they are. I know it sounds scary. It's really not. I have a psychologist. I don't see her very much anymore, but I still go in from time to time. Just a touch base; let her know how I'm doing, or if I feel like I need to talk to somebody."

Laura looks up at her aunt and nods. "That's right. You got mom stuff too, huh?"

Mac chuckles as she nods affirmatively. "Mom stuff, and dad stuff, and dead best friend stuff, and old boyfriend stuff… I got lots of stuff. I even used to have a whole bunch of Harm stuff…" She shrugs dramatically. "Most of that stuff doesn't bother me anymore! And, if it does, I can just tell him about it now. "

Laura giggles and shakes her head. "Gosh Aunt Mac, you got a lot of stuff." She still sounds slightly guarded but hopeful when she adds, "Maybe if you guys adopt me, I won't have so much stuff as you."

"I hope not baby."

"Okay." She nods emphatically. "I'll go see the doctor." She picks up another cookie, and opens her book to the place where the bookmark already is. "Now read please."

Harm offers his wife a smile and a shrug, as though to say "I guess the conversation is over." before he begins to read, "Chapter three The Wild Wood. The mole had long wanted to make the acquaintance of the badger…"


	80. Chapter 80: They're Like Bubblegum

**Chapter 80: They're Like Bubble Gum**

**Author's note:** Short chapter, but allergies seem to be subsiding. I felt almost human today, so I was busy with work. Playing catch up. I figure, if I can write a minimum of 1000 words a night, this story might eventually get completely written.

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Monday, March 17, 2008  
2246 hours

Rabb residence

Mac leaves the master bath and deposits the hairbrush in her hand on top of her dresser before she flops down on the bed sideways and rests her head on Harm's abdomen. He absent mindedly begins to stroke her hair; letting his fingers slide through her long dark tresses.

"This day didn't go anywhere near as badly as I thought it might."

"You're kidding right?"

"No, why?"

He frowns. "Does she really think that?"

"Well… First of all, I'm guessing you mean Laura. Secondly, I'm not sure exactly what's on your mind Flyboy, but have you ever known Laura not to tell you exactly what she thinks."

"That's just…"

Mac watches and short lived surprise gives way to understanding as his face contorts with barely contained anger. "Ahh. You mean the whole bit about us only adopting her because we might not have a kid of our own. Yeah… I'm afraid she really did think that."

"But why? Why would she think that? Why does she think we'd do that to her?"

"Harm she's only seven and she lived most of the first six years of her life in a place where she figured out pretty quickly that she didn't matter. If she wanted to eat, she fixed her own breakfast. And apparently, dinner was always served on crackers; if at all. She couldn't get the brace she needed or the shoes she needed, or countless other things. Kids aren't stupid, they know when somebody loves them; and they know when somebody doesn't. An apathetic parent can do a lot of damage in six years' time. We've only had her for seven months. It can take a lifetime to undo that kind of damage. When you've got a mom who refuses to feed you properly, or even dress you properly; when you can't trust her, you learn not to trust anybody. Laura knows we love her, but sometimes she's gonna slide backward, be suspicious of our motives. Up until you and me, she thought she was worthless. How many times have we heard her say that her mom was only nice when she wanted something?"

He scowls and his jaw goes hard. "Why did they give her back to your sister? Somebody should kick her teeth in."

Mac raises up on her elbows and stares at him for a long moment before she lightly kisses his taut angry mouth. "Want me to smack her for you the next time I see her?"

He grimaces. "No, but I wouldn't blame you if you decided to put her lights out for Laura."

"Are you kidding, Laura's the only reason I haven't done it. She wouldn't see it the way you do; as some kind of vindication. Laura knows her mom's ten different kinds of messed up. But she's the only mom she has. Attacking Casey won't help Laura. If I thought it would, believe me, it would already be done."

"You understand her. You understand the way she thinks."

Mac nods, but wobbles her head side to side at the same time. "Yes… And no. Laura is stronger than I was. She's kinder, gentler, more patient… Or maybe tolerant is the better word. I have no clue who her father might've been. I'm not even sure to Casey does. Makes me wonder if certain parts of personality are inbred… Or is it all learned, and if it is, who taught her? It certainly wasn't my sister. I can't imagine it was any one of her boyfriend's either."

He sits up a little straighter in the bed and pushes the blankets down for Mac to crawl beneath. "The conversation ended a lot faster than I thought it would too. I thought she'd ask more questions."

"Oh, she will, believe me. They're coming." Mac affirms, changing position and settling in beside him. "She just haven't decided which ones to ask yet."

"Can't she just ask them all?"

"No! In the first place, there aren't enough hours in the day. Secondly, she's not sure she wants to hear the answers to all of the questions in her head. At least not yet anyway. You have to give her time to sort things out Harm. You can't expect her to tell you how she feels or what she thinks when she doesn't even know the answer to that herself yet. All the questions running around in her head… They're like bubble gum."

He chuckles and raises an eyebrow. "Bubble gum?"

Mac grins. "Yeah, you shouldn't expect her to spit them out until she's chewed every last bit of flavor out of them."

"Hmm… I think you girls make yourselves crazy worrying about all the questions, and all the possible answers…"

"It's all about self-preservation. If you don't think you can handle the answer, then don't ask the question. She won't ask you anything she's not ready to hear the answer to. I'm just glad she is talking, even if it isn't quite as fast or is frequently as you'd like. I'm proud of her really. When I was her age, if somebody had suggested to me that I go talk to a psychologist, I would've been scared witless, and to cover that up, I would have thrown a world class fit. She's going to be okay Harm, as long as she stays with us, she'll be okay."

"Isn't that usually my line?"

"Yeah well. You seem to need me to step in, at least for tonight." She'd tips her head to one side and studies his face for a moment. "That's a little bit better." She smiles broadly. "It's rare to see you genuinely pissed off."

"Yeah okay. You can stop grinning at me like the Cheshire cat."

She shrugs, still grinning, and snuggles in close; pulling his arm around her. "Can't help it. Just makes me happy. You didn't have to get mixed up in all this… But you did anyway… I still think that's pretty awesome, and I love you… Squid!"

Reaching up to flick out the bedside lamp, he chuckles quietly. "Love you too. Now, go to sleep… Jarhead."


	81. Chapter 81: Doctor Melinda

**Chapter 81: Doctor Melinda**

**Author's note**: I know it's been a long time, and I know I dropped the ball but in case anybody out there is still reading; here's the next chapter.

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Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Office of Child Psychologist, Dr. Melinda Upshaw

Dr. Melinda Upshaw uncrosses and then re-crosses her legs. She leans forward slightly in her comfortable arm chair as though to engage in conversation while she observes quietly as young Laura O' Hara watches with obvious apprehension as her aunt and uncle leave the room. The little girl's very tall, not to mention, attractive uncle glances over his shoulder and smiles with warm encouragement as he closes the door; temporarily leaving Laura alone for a private session with the doctor.

Without her aunt and uncle present, Laura slides awkwardly from the couch inside the office to the floor. Sitting Indian style, she offers half of her attention to the big black lab at her side; gently tugging at one of the dog's ears in a self-soothing manner; as she gives what is left of her attention to the doll she hugs tightly to her chest.

Following her brief initial chat with the three of them, during which Laura said very little, Melinda Upshaw briefly went over the details of Laura's current and past situations. Now she watches as the girl glances at her; her gaze lightly touching the doctor's face before skittering away to focus on things in the office that she finds more comfortable.

"It's okay if you're nervous Laura. But there's no need for you to be."

Laura shrugs without comment and picks idly at the delicate ribbon of lace around the collar of her doll's denim and polka dot dress. She glances, with curious eyes, first at the framed certificates on the wall behind the doctor's desk and then at the small table in one corner of the room with It's set of well used children's blocks scattered about on top of it. Laura wishes this room didn't smell funny; like too much cinnamon potpourri. It makes her nose itch, and she doesn't want to sneeze.

The doctor's gaze follows hers and she asks, "Do you want to play with the blocks?"

Unwilling to move, Laura stays where she is. She shakes her head; her backside rooted to the floor with the couch at her back and her dog and her doll for comfort.

The doctor tries again. "Your aunt says you like to draw and paint. I have some crayons if you would prefer those instead."

Laura offers her another brief glance, this one slightly less hesitant than the previous, before she offers a quiet but polite "No thank you."

The woman smiles patiently and tilts her head to one side. "You don't really want to be here do you Laura?"

Again Laura shrugs quietly.

"Oh come on." The doctor teases encouragingly with a warm easy smile. "I know you must have something to say. You were chattering away like a songbird out in the waiting room. I heard you talking about last night's pizza dinner, your aunt and uncle's baby plans, something about a yellow airplane, and something else about Trish's pretty pink flowers, all in the span of about 60 seconds, and now you're as quiet as a church mouse?"

Laura wrinkles her nose. "I didn't want to come here, but Aunt Mac and Uncle Harm wanted me to… so that maybe I can get adopted."

"Do you want to be adopted?"

For the first time since the departure of her aunt and uncle, Laura looks the doctor directly in the eye and nods with enthusiasm. Then, with her eyes still shining, she shrugs again and returns her attention to her furry companion. She pats the dog's head affectionately and pulls her close until the canine lays down; stretching her forepaws across the girl's lap.

"Does the thought of being adopted make you nervous?"

The question causes Laura to squint as she studies the woman's face intently, trying to decide if she's really a friend or just a well disguised adversary. After what seems a nearly interminable moment Laura offers her a slight nod and replies, "Maybe."

Pleased with the tiny bit of progress the doctor leans back in her chair; settling in more comfortably. "Okay, why maybe?"

"'Cause maybe I'm supposed to be with Mom."

"Really? Who says?"

"Mimi." Laura watches the doctor raise an eyebrow and then offers, "She says people won't be good if they don't have a reason to. If Mom gets out of jail and I don't go back to live with her…" Laura pauses. "Then maybe she won't even try anymore. If she stops trying, she will be in trouble all the time… and I hate it when she gets in trouble."

Careful not to show her surprise, the doctor slowly nods her understanding. "That's an awfully big burden for a little girl to have to carry. Do you make sure that your aunt and uncle behave themselves?"

Laura shakes her head emphatically. "Don't have to. They're grownups."

"If your aunt and uncle are grownups, then what is your mom?"

Laura scowls thoughtfully for a long moment but then answers the lady doctor's question honestly; the way Aunt Mac and Uncle Harm said she should. "She's a grownup size brat. She's big, but she throws fits worse than Liam does if he doesn't get his dessert."

Melinda Upshaw bites her lower lip to keep from chuckling out loud in response to Laura's forthright announcement. "Does your mom throw fits often?"

"At least three or four a day."

"That must be difficult to live with."

"it's not fun, but I'm kind of used to it."

"So what do you do with all the extra time now that you don't have to look after your mom?"

Truly animated for the first time since her arrival, Laura answers eagerly. "I play on the beach. I build sandcastles and I swim. I chase my dog, and play with my friend Liam. I do my homework, and go to therapy where I talk to Charlie. I hang out with Chloe when she visits and I go to Grandma's art gallery where I can look at all the pretty pictures. Someday soon Uncle Harm is going to take me flying in his big yellow airplane. Her name is Sarah; after his grandmother, not Aunt Mac. Grandpa is going to take me to watch the cars crash with the crash test dummies because I'm getting an A in social studies instead of a C."

"And what would you be doing if you were living with your mom right now?"

"I'd hang out in my room with Candy for company, and we'd try not to make too much noise until we got hungry. When I'm hungry, I don't care if she yells."

"Does your mom yell at you a lot?"

Laura nods. "Mom yells at everybody; not just me."

Nodding, the doctor flips through the pages of the yellow notepad in her lap. "The people at children's services have taken you out of your mom's house more than once… quite a few times actually. If you go back to live with her again, do you think you'll be taken away again?"

Laura nods. "That part really sucks. Most of the times they took me away, I'd have to go someplace where the people ignored me the whole time I was there. At least Mom yells. At least she knows I'm there."

"What about your aunt and uncle? Do they yell?"

"Hardly never… And when they do they're kind of funny. They make lots of noise, but they aren't mean to each other. It's weird. But it's a weird in a good way."

"it sounds as if things are better with your aunt and uncle. Do you miss your mom?"

"Sometimes yes, but not enough."

"Not enough for what?"

"I still don't want to go see her in jail. Aunt Mac say she will take me if I decide I want to go, but she says she won't make me go if I don't want to. I don't want to go there. What if Mom tries to keep me there in jail with her? Grandma Trish says she can't do that. She says she's not allowed to, but I don't care. I don't want to give her the chance to try."

"When your mom is released from jail, if she tried to be a better mom, would you want to live with her again?"

"Maybe, if it was real. I'm pretty sure it would be fake though. Mom only does nice things until she gets what she wants; then she stops."

"How about your aunt and uncle? Are they like that too?"

Laura shakes her head vehemently. "I think they must be nice even when they don't get nothing for it. They've got two friends…" Laura pauses to hold up two fingers dramatically. "Who are trying to help them have a baby. Trust me, nobody, not even one person, would have a baby for my mom!" Laura glances toward the closed office door. "Can they come back in here now?"

"if you want them to, yes, but will you do me a favor? Will you come back to see me again? Especially if the three of you decide to go through with the adoption process. I'd like to know how things turn out if that's okay with you."

Laura flashes a radiant smile. "You'll have to ask Aunt Mac and Uncle Harm that. They're in charge. They drive me everywhere I go. I don't have a driver's license yet."


	82. Chapter 82: Phone Tag

**Chapter 82: Phone Tag**

**Author's note**: If the dates on my reviews are correct, then it's been a year since I posted here; at least for this story, anyway. Doesn't feel like it's been a year. If it has, I can only apologize. Bad things happened here, I lost some one unexpectedly, and for a while I just shut down. I think I'm ready to come back now. Young Laura and her aunt and uncle had been tapping me gently on the shoulder for some time now; whispering in my ear. However, I didn't want to return to this story until I felt I was ready to do them justice. Let's hope I can.

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Saturday, March 23, 2008

1530 San Diego time-1830 Washington, DC time

Harriet Roberts hangs up the unanswered phone with mild concern. It's the third time she's called in two days. No one in San Diego has answered. She knows they're busy. Between work, taking care of Laura, preparing to adopt Laura, and the girl's recent trip to the Chrysler assembly plant to watch the crash test dummies do their thing; she knows her friends have been meeting themselves coming and going. In addition to caring for their niece, they're in the process of a serious home remodeling project, and only just six days ago, a dear friend, one who lives a lot closer to them than Harriet does, underwent an embryonic transplant. In the midst of everything they've got going on, Harriett can't recall if they were spending this weekend or next weekend with Keeter and Skates. However, she really needs to talk to them. Knowing that she isn't being ignored, they wouldn't do that to her, Harriet decides that it's time to get creative, but what to do? She gives it ½ hour's thought as she goes about her weekend chores. Just shy of three weeks ago they sent her flowers. The flowers and the affection that came with them were lovely; even if they did make her cry. She decides, it's time to return the favor. Although it's a different number, she picks up the phone and dials once more.

* * *

Uncertain whether she should the pissed off, or simply just tired, Mac leaves the prison. On her way out, part of her wishes the whole sordid affair was over with. Part of her wishes that she never had to see her sister again. Actually, if she never had to see her sister or her mother again that would be just fine with her. Part of her wishes she was anywhere but here… Maybe even on a bar stool somewhere… No wait. She definitely does not wish that! Yeah, she might be stressed; she might even be thirsty, but so what! She's got too many reasons not to wish for that. Too many good reasons. And for the first time in her life, the good reasons seem to outweigh the bad. It's good. It's a little frightening; actually sometimes it's terrifying. But it's good; really good. She can be happy. Okay, so she's got a rotten uterus. She's tired of dealing with child welfare, and the unscheduled visits that pertain to her niece and upset the little girl greatly every time they occur. Six days ago, she had to implant yet another woman with her own personal hopes and dreams. But hey, life could be worse. Laura could still be living in a trailer with a neurotic, apathetic, mother who is more concerned with her own libido and the many less than desirable men she keeps around to satisfy it than she is with her own daughter's well-being. She and Harm didn't have to be married. They could still be not talking; with an ocean between their mailboxes. She remembers teasing him. She remembers telling him that he was going to have to stop saying that, lest people should begin to think that it was a euphemism for something kinky. She remembers him spitting coffee down the front of his uniform only minutes before he had to walk out the door. That was back before he left his post in London. That was more than six months ago. Life isn't perfect. But life is good. Why do both her mother and Casey work so hard to make themselves and everyone around them unhappy? Because that's all they know. Damn it! Casey knew that Mac wanted to talk to her. She knew that Mac was coming for visitation today. But yesterday, her sister picked a fight with a fellow inmate. Now's she's in solitary confinement, again. No one bothered to call and tell Mac this before she drove out here to this godforsaken place. Of course, Mac hadn't bothered to call and check either. Next time, she will. Live and learn. She has other, far more enjoyable things she could be doing today. For one brief moment, Mac wonders if the younger woman is avoiding her. Did she get herself thrown in the hole just to avoid seeing me? She wouldn't put it past the woman, at the same time, maybe she's just being paranoid. Determined to ask Harm about it later, she decides to put her sister and her mother both out of her mind for the rest of this day. They might not know how to be happy, but regardless of all the things currently happening in her life, things that might, at another time, have kept her from being happy, Mac feels as though she's finally starting to figure it out.

She climbs into the driver's seat of her Jeep and leaves the prison behind. She'll have to try again soon. Minutes later, at a red light, she glances at her phone and sees evidence of a missed call from DC. She pushes a button on her steering wheel and when an automated female voice comes through her car stereo system with the simple question, "How may I help?" She smiles and requests, "Dial Harm."

She listens to the phone ringing on his end. It takes more than half a dozen rings for him to pick up the call which is unusual, but when he does, she can hear the voices of their friends in the background. Skates, Keeter, and Harm are in the midst of some lively discussion. When he pauses midsentence and directs his comments to her over the phone, she can hear the smile on his face. "Don't tell me left the prison already. Did they kick you out?"

Laughing, she fires back, "No, they did not kick me out, Squid!"

"Well, given drive time, that was an awfully short visit. Is there a problem?"

"Casey's back in solitary confinement." She says drolly.

"Again? That girl likes to fight… more than a drunken biker."

"Shh… If Laura's anywhere nearby, don't let her hear you say that. It will just upset her."

"No. She's on the back porch at the moment, talking to Frank. He's back from Dallas, and happily getting an earful."

"Your mom and Frank are there already? I thought they were coming later?"

"Mom isn't here yet. She's still at the gallery. Frank decided not to wait for her. I think he missed Laura. She's hardly said a word to anyone else since he arrived. Even Keeter can't hold her attention."

Laughing, Mac narrowly avoids missing a turn because she's more focused on the conversation than on her driving. "I should get off the phone. I almost missed my turn."

"Well, don't do that Jarhead!"

"Yeah, I know. I only called because Harriett called while I was in the prison. It's the second time she's tried to call me in less than 24 hours. I keep missing her. I know you're busy entertaining, but please give her and Bud a call, make sure they are okay. I'll be home as soon as I can."

"Okay, I will. Bud tried to call me once too. Drive safe. Love you…"

She can clearly hear Keeter interrupting on his end and she knows what the man wants before Harm says, with a mix of brotherly affection and mild irritation, "Oh, hey Mac…Keeter says bring barbecue sauce. He says I got the wrong kind."

Mac chuckles softly, and says with mild acceptance. "You always do, but I love you anyway." Just to get a rise out of the other man, she says, "Tell Jack I'll think about it. She disconnects the call with every intention of honoring the request.

Later, when she arrives home, she steps into their kitchen and makes a show of delivering the requested bottle of barbecue sauce. When she sets it down the bar in front of Keeter, He jokes with his friend who is otherwise distracted by a recently delivered package. "Hey Brother, at least your wife knows good barbecue sauce!"

Offering a warm smile to Skates, before Mac kisses Harm's cheek in greeting; she's mildly curious when he doesn't respond at all to his friend's teasing barb. Noticing his lack of response even to her kiss, she inquires, "Hi Sailor. What you got there? Did you call Bud and Harriett?"

"Did call. No answer. Phone tag." Harm tells her without making eye contact, and in a barely audible, not to mention, dazed whisper.

Squinting, she looks first at the bizarre, undefinable look on her husband's face. Then she looks to Skates for some kind of explanation.

Skates shrugs; mystified. "That box just arrived. Two minutes before you walked in. He's been standing there, still as a stone, ever since he took the card out of the envelope."

Breaking the seal on the bottle of barbecue sauce, Keeter questions with enthusiasm, "What's in the box Buddy?"

Harm says nothing. Harm doesn't move, or even blink.

Placing a gentle hand on his bicep, Mac stares at him with concern for a long second before she carefully pushes a layer of tissue paper aside to see what is in the box. Carefully lifting it from his arms, she moves the box to the kitchen counter and momentarily stares at its contents; confused.

Aware that their friends' curiosity is rapidly becoming concern, she answers quietly. "They're roses." She steps back to Harm's side and carefully removes the card from his hand.

Keeter and Skates watch in stunned silence as Mac reads the card to herself and involuntarily stumbles backwards. She reaches blindly for the counter behind her, misses it, and would've gone down if her own sudden movement weren't enough to jar Harm out of his momentary shock induced paralysis. He grabs for her, catching her, stabilizing her, and pulling her close just in time. She unintentionally lets go of the card and numbly watches as it falls to the floor.

Before either of them can say or do anything, the front door opens and Harm's mother walks in with her usual warm greeting. "Hello darlings."

Finding their silence curious, she watches Keeter and Skates stare at her son and daughter-in-law. She watches Harm and Mac stare at each other. Vaguely aware that something important is definitely happening, she questions, "Where's my granddaughter? Where's my husband?"

No one answers.

Crossing the room, she deposits her handbag on top of the bar, looks curiously at the white roses in the box, and then, without a word, she walks over and retrieves the small white card lying face down on the floor at Mac's feet.

Turning the card over in her hand, she reads silently, a sweet and peaceful smile slowly spreading across her face as, in a delayed reaction, a single tear slides down her son's cheek and his wife tenderly brushes it away before wrapping her arms around him and hiding her face from view in the curve of his neck.

Realizing that no one is about to tell him what the damn card says, Keeter sets his bottle of barbecue sauce down on the counter with a decisive thump, walks over and eagerly helps himself to the card still in Trish's hand.

He reads. He looks at the motionless people in the room. He throws back his head and laughs boldly and freely. Trotting around the counter to Skates, he takes her face in his hands and kisses her hard on the mouth before he drops the card in her hands. He leaves her stunned by the unexpected sudden show of affection as he heads for the back door, bellowing, "Laura! Frank! Get in here! Now! You're missing it!

Taking her turn with the mysterious card, Skates reads.

_"Hi Mom. Hi Dad._

_You really need to call Uncle Bud &amp; Aunt Harriett. The doctor goofed. See you soon._

_Love, Baby." _


	83. Chapter 83: Confirmation

**Chapter 83: Confirmation**

**Author's note**: Wow! So great to hear from all of you again. Didn't realize how much I missed you until my e-mail started blowing up with messages. I had my doubts about writing the last chapter. Thank you for rendering them pointless!

Steamboat: (and everyone else too) Yes, I changed my username. I did it because I've started writing stories for another fandom, and I wanted my username to reflect that. In my grief, I started watching Once Upon a Time. Somewhere along the way I got hooked. A few weeks ago the idiot writers killed off one of my two favorite characters. I decided to nullify his death scene. That got me back into writing, which eventually led me back here to this story. Although I had my reasons, in the future, even if I do start writing for any additional fandoms I will not change my name again. It has caused way too much confusion. My apologies to one and all.

Byrthhelm, Yes, you have told me many times of your affinity for this story. Thank you! Your continued appreciation is particularly dear to me given your lack of affection for a certain Marine. The fact that you continue to read anyway never fails to make me smile. I am one of her fans, as you already know. Even so, during the show's run, she frequently got on my nerves; especially in the last three seasons. I've tried to keep Mac's personality intact, while doing away with some of her rather annoying nonsense. At times, it is a delicate balance.

Saturday, March 23, 2008

1541 San Diego time

Frank Burnett closes the lid on his stepson's barbecue pit, steps across the porch, and picks up the little girl with the startled wide brown eyes; patting her back in what he hopes is a soothing gesture. He has to step back as he attempts to open the door in response to Keeter's loud bellowing call because the man on the other side of the door is also trying to open it.

"What's all the fuss about? You scared Laura."

With a sudden look of contrition, Keeter winks at the girl. "Sorry runt. Didn't mean to." Lifting her from Frank's arms, he hugs her for a split second before hauling her up over his shoulder. He carries the giggling girl into the house as if she were a large sack of potatoes.

Still giggling, Laura protests halfheartedly and struggles to turn herself around so she can see what's going on. "What you yelling about anyway, Keeter?"

Knowing he won't drop her, she pushes against him; wiggling about and squirming until she is sitting in the crock of his arm with both of her own arms around his neck. Once comfortable, Laura stares at the people in the room. Aunt Mac and Uncle Harm are hugging each other. There's nothing weird about that. They do that all the time, but the room feels funny anyway. Skates is smiling and her eyes are big; like something just surprised her. Grandma Trish is putting pretty white roses in a brown glass vase. Laura smiles with uncertainty at Grandpa Frank who looks a bit confused himself. She stares at the roses, and then looking to Keeter, she silently points at her uncle and bobs her chin in his direction.

Understanding the unspoken message, Keeter moves across the room to stand nearer his friend so that the girl can reach out and poke her uncle gently on the shoulder. When Harm turns his head her way without bothering to break his embrace with her aunt, and he looks more than a bit misty eyed, Laura stares hard at the roses again.

"What did you do wrong?" She scowls and demands to know.

Mac chuckles softly at the confusion that seeps into her husband's eyes. Without lifting her head from his shoulder, she reaches out and runs her fingers through the little girl's hair affectionately.

"Why you think Harm did something wrong, Laura?"

Squinting, and thoroughly confused, as much by the sweetness in her aunt's voice as the fact that she won't stop hugging Uncle Harm, Laura points at the flowers. "Only time we ever got flowers at Mom's house was when one of her stupid boyfriends did something really really bad. But, I'm confused. You don't look like you're mad at him."

"That's because I'm not, baby. Flowers don't always mean somebody was bad. He did something really really good! The doctor messed up the test results. Harriet is pregnant. She is going to have a baby!"

Laura looks around the room again before returning her attention to her aunt and uncle and raising a skeptical eyebrow. As she asks, "Are you sure this time?" Keeter throws back his head and laughs boisterously.

Mystified, he says more to himself than to anyone else. "Only in this house…"

Laura scowls and passes a look of mild concern between Keeter and her aunt and uncle.

Mac gently thumps the heel of her palm against the shoulder Laura isn't leaning against. "Hush Jack! Don't confuse her."

Still scowling slightly, Laura shrugs comically. "What?" She demands adorably. "It's too late, I'm already confused. Somebody help… Before I get a headache." She blows a puff of air out; lifting her own bangs off her forehead.

Still laughing, Keeter mentally edits his own words before he patiently explains, "In any other house, if your best friend is having your husband's baby… It's not a good thing! And it takes more than roses to fix that… A lot more!"

Bobbing her chin, Laura accepts this new piece of information with certainty. Eyeing her aunt and uncle again, she repeats, "Are you sure this time? I'm not getting excited. Not until Miss Harriett tells me herself." She shakes her head emphatically.

Smiling at the girl, Skates gets up from her barstool and moves to stand next to Keeter.

As he drapes his free arm around the brunette's shoulders, she explains. "Harriet sent your aunt and uncle the flowers; they came with a note". She reads the card again for Laura and Frank's benefit.

_"Hi Mom. Hi Dad._

_You really need to call Uncle Bud &amp; Aunt Harriett. The doctor goofed. See you soon._

_Love, Baby."_

Deciding maybe it's okay to smile; just a little bit, Laura whispers with excitement, "Gimme that! Le'me see!

Still smiling, Skates hands over the card. Laura takes it as Keeter begins to jiggle the girl about in his arms.

"Stop it Keeter!" She giggles with mild exasperation, before whispering in a more serious tone. "I'm trying to reeeeeeead."

Chuckling at the girl's consternation, Trish finishes up with the flowers and moves to embrace both Mac and her son at the same time. Standing on tiptoe, she kisses each of them on the head, squeezes them tightly in a warm hug, and then she moves on to her husband's waiting embrace.

Laura stares at the card for several long seconds. For half a beat she looks as if she's holding something magical in the palm of her hand and then she changes her mind again, squints, purses her lips, and announces with determination. "I am not getting excited; not until I talk to Miss Harriett! 'Cause when you guys told me she wasn't going to have a baby… That was no fun!"

Chuckling softly as he wipes moisture away from his own eyes as well as his wife's, Harm declares, "You're right Laura. That was no fun! Let's go call her. Right now!" He plucks the girl from Keeter's arms and goes in search of, a tablet, a phone, anything that will allow him to place one of the most important calls of his life.

Choosing to allow anyone who wants it, easy access, he props Mac's tablet in the center of the bar and waits for one ringing device to be answered by another as his family crowds around.

Obviously, in her kitchen, and probably preparing dinner for her hungry bunch, the perky blond answers his call on the second ring without a formal greeting. "I figured you'd be calling. Guess you got the flowers…"

"We did." He assures; flashing his grin.

Standing at his shoulder with her arms around him, Mac queries at the same time, "How are you Harriett."

Happy laughter bubbles out of her as she realizes how many different people she can see on screen; all of them scrunched up together, cheerful and eager for news. "I'm shocked… That's how I am! Almost beyond words. I don't feel pregnant. Being eight weeks in, I should. I've always known it in the past by the time I reached this point. But I don't. I still wouldn't know if I hadn't stood up too fast a few days ago. Jenny was about to pull an opened 5-pound sack of corn meal off the counter. Blood pressure bottomed out, my knees turned to jelly. I would have gone down like a lightweight with a glass jaw if Bud hadn't been there to stop her and catch me. It's never happened quite like that before. But then again, I've said it myself… Every pregnancy is different. Off to the doctor we went. No other signs or signals; not overt or subtle. I don't feel like I have the flu. I'm not nervous or nauseous… yet. I'm not swollen, bloated, achy, cranky… or any of the other things I've been in the past. It's kind of weird. They ran tests… And they assure me; I am definitely pregnant. I think I annoyed the heck out of them; but I don't care. I made them run the same test half a dozen times, and do a physical exam, just to be sure. I didn't want to give you guys the wrong news again. The stork is definitely on its way… And right now everything looks good. No signs of trouble. I talked to my doctor today. He wants to schedule the first ultrasound. I told him I had to talk to you two first. I'm guessing you want to be here; if at all possible."

She isn't surprised much when, not two, but three different people; Harm, Mac, and Trish, all answer in perfect unison. "Yes!"

Harriet laughs. "The more the merrier; I guess." She pauses when she glances at the sweet smile on a little girl's face. "Laura, sweetie, what's wrong? I thought you'd be squealing with delight by now."

"I'm happy." The girl announces matter-of-factly. "But, I am not squealing… Or doing a happy dance… Until somebody shows me a baby. You said that the doctor said you weren't gonna have a baby. The flower card said he goofed. If he couldn't tell for sure… Maybe you need a new doctor because, Miss Harriett, that was messed up! And it wasn't no fun either."

As he appears on screen, hugging his wife from behind, Bud Roberts laughs joyfully. "Hello Laura, you're right. That was messed up, and no fun either. However, sometimes that happens. Doctors run tests all the time. Most of the time the tests turn out the way they should. Sometimes, even though they do everything right, you get a false positive or, in our case, a false negative. I guess maybe your cousin just wasn't ready to announce his or her impending arrival yet."

Accepting this new bit of information with a thoughtful frown, Laura says, "Hi Mr. Bud. Will it be a boy or a girl?"

Chuckling quietly, he assures, "Definitely one or the other. We don't know which yet. It's way too early to tell. We'll all just have to wait and see."

When movement somewhere out of frame catches her attention, Harriet holds up a finger, signaling that they should wait a moment and then she yells at one of her children. "Jimmy Roberts! You get down from there immediately; if not sooner young man!"

As his wife disappears from view, Bud says, "Have to go for now." His eyes shine with equal parts exasperation and mirth. "The animals are trying to escape the zoo! We'll call back after they're down for the night and pinpoint a date that works for all of us for the ultrasound."

The last sound they all hear before the call is disconnected is young Jimmy's loud objection "Aww Mom!"

Shaking her head, Mac picks up her tablet and moves it to a safe corner of the bar. When she turns around again, she raises an eyebrow in response to the stricken and slightly comical look on Harm's face. "What? What is it Harm?" Touching his arm, she follows his gaze straight to Skates; who also looks mildly uncomfortable. "What?" She says again; her gaze volleying back and forth between the two friends as if she were watching a tennis match.

"It's just…" Elizabeth Hawkes clears her throat. "Well… I went for a transplant because Harriett's doctor told you she wasn't pregnant. If my transplant takes…" She leaves the rest hanging in the air unsaid.

Mac's dark eyes go wide with what might best be called delightful dread. She opens her mouth to speak, but before she can so much as sigh, laughter explodes from somewhere deep inside Jack Keeter's chest.


	84. Chapter 84: While The Cat's Away…

All in Good Time Chapter 84:While The Cat's Away...

* * *

**Author's Note: **I'm trying to decide how the next few chapters should go. While I make up my mind, I thought you all might enjoy a visit with Laura. Additionally, I've had a few ideas regarding baby names. However, I've yet to decide on anything definitively. While we still have plenty of time please feel free to make your thoughts known… Preferably before the stork lands. Also, when you get to the end of this chapter, please don't send me messages about how you thought service dogs weren't supposed to do that. A dog… is a dog… is a dog. No matter how well trained they are, if you leave goodies unattended… They will vanish.

* * *

**Thursday, March 27, 2008**

**1535 HRS**

**Burnett Residence**

Handbag, garment bag, suitcase, and her sunglasses are on top of her head, but where are her car keys?

Frank watches Trish quietly turn a slow circle in their kitchen as she searches for some desired item.

Laura watches too, from her place at the small kitchen table, as she munches on a piece of banana bread. She helps herself to a swallow of milk before asking emphatically, "Grandma, what are you looking for? You've already checked everything twice."

Smiling at the girl, Trish shakes her head in exasperation and mutters beneath her breath. "What did I do with them this time?"

Having witnessed this particular event countless times in the 30 plus years they've been married, Frank winks at his granddaughter and decides to lend a helping hand. Without preamble, he says quietly to his wife, "On top of the microwave."

His words slide passed her; taking a long moment to register in her mind before she stops, turns, and lifts her key ring from the top of the aforementioned appliance. Holding it in the air victoriously, she declares, "Aha! Laura darling, without your grandfather, I'd be lost."

Giggling, Laura glances at Frank.

Across the table from her, he says conspiratorially, behind the rim of his coffee cup. "It's true. She keeps track of everything else in this house… Including my car keys. Just don't ask her to find her own. And more often than not, when she looking for them, they are right in front of her. She just can't see them."

Although its belied by the light in her eyes, Trish gives her husband a stern look, though she says nothing. She's in too big a hurry and in too good a mood to bother being seriously annoyed. "Mac called the child welfare people. They may, or may not stop in to check on Laura while we're gone. Their aware of the situation. I know we've been over this, but you know what to do if they show up?"

"I do." He calmly nods in affirmation.

She glances at the long list stuck to the refrigerator door courtesy of the magnet that is shaped like a ladybug. "You have all our numbers? Even Mac, Harm, and the Roberts' home phone number."

Frank nods patiently, and dutifully rises from his seat. He knows that if he doesn't gently shove her out the door, she's going to miss her flight. "Yes, I have everybody's phone numbers. Including the number to the hotel, Harriet's doctor's office, the local police department, the local fire department, and the local poison control center. I have Laura's physical therapist's phone number; I have her pediatrician's phone number. I even have Candy's veterinarian's phone number and address. I know what to do if Laura gets a leg cramp. I know what to do in case of an earthquake, or a freak flash flood… and if the backyard is suddenly and inexplicably over-run with bunny rabbits, I'll send Candy out there to deal with them." Picking up her suitcase and folding her garment bag over one arm, he takes her gently by the elbow and makes for the front door. "Stop worrying. We'll be fine. You'll be back on Sunday. How much trouble can we possibly get into in three days?"

Trish turns awkwardly, swatting at his shoulder because he's being silly and squinting in response to the last question. She opens her mouth to tell him that she is quite certain he could find plenty of trouble in three days' time, but he cuts her off…

"Trish, honey, you don't want to be late. They won't hold the plane, and even if they would, I don't think Harm and Mac are going to feel much like waiting… Be a shame if they had to book another flight. It took quite a bit of planning to coordinate everybody's schedules for this ultrasound. Stop worrying… We love you. Now go!"

Laura abandons what's left of her snack, grabs her walker, and follows after them, down the hall to the front door. "Yeah Grandma. Stop worrying. We got this. Go see my cousin."

Trish talks over her shoulder as Frank ushers her out the door. "Laura, darling, don't stay up too late… And don't let Grandpa to eat too much junk food while I'm gone."

Shaking his head, Frank chuckles quietly as he opens the driver's side door of his wife's car for her, before stowing her travel gear in the backseat.

Reluctantly, Trish slides in behind the wheel because he's right. She really has to go. "You'll call if you need anything… Or… If she gets lonesome?"

Smiling patiently, Frank closes the car door and then leans in through the open window to kiss his wife's cheek. "For the love of God; woman! You're leaving her with me, not some muddle-headed teenager. Get out of here, already. Go see our grandbaby!"

"Okay, I'm going. You'll answer if Skates or Keeter calls… If she needs them for anything…"

Frank says nothing. He simply stands up straight, puts his hands on his hips and raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, okay!" Smiling, she touches his face affectionately. She starts the engine and then blows a kiss to Laura as Frank steps to the little girl's side; placing an arm around her shoulders.

Only after her car disappears from view does Frank turn to the girl and ask with a wide grin, "Do you wanna play chess… Or poker?"

Laura squints; giving the question serious consideration. After a long beat, and she nods emphatically. "Both!"

He laughs. "Alright! I'll get the chessboard." He motions her into the house ahead of him, and she's off like a shot.

"I'll get the cards. I know where they are."

"Of course you do." Closing the door, he asks, "What do you want for dinner tonight, kiddo?"

Feeling somewhat duty bound, Laura calls loudly, on her way back to the kitchen, "I'm eating the chicken that Grandma made for us to eat tonight. She made coleslaw and beans too… But maybe after… We could make some cookies?"

By the time he makes it to the kitchen, she's gripping the countertop with one hand to stabilize herself while she stands on tiptoe and trying to snag the deck of cards from the back of the drawer where they're kept. She stops rummaging through the drawer long enough to look up at him with hopeful eyes.

"What kind of cookie would you like?"

"Chocolate chip, of course." She says as if there could be no other. "Maybe with some nuts."

"Well, in that case, we might have to put poker on hold. I'm pretty sure Grandma Trish used that the last of the walnuts in your banana bread. We might have to go to the store and get some more."

"I forget about my banana bread." Laura looks at her place at the table and finds that the small saucer that had contained what was left of her snack is now empty. Confused, she looks around the room until her eyes come to rest on her furry canine friend who is resting on a large green and yellow pillow in the corner of the room. "Candy, did you steal my snack?"

The lab's only reply is to lick her chops noisily and swish her tail side to side; thumping it against the wall.

"Ugh!" Laura groans in mild frustration while Frank chuckles merrily.

"Come on honey." Frank says, picking up his own car keys from the counter top and giving them a jingle. "Bring your furry sidekick. If she behaves herself in the store, maybe I'll buy her a good girl biscuit."

At the mention of one of her favorite treats, Laura's dog beats them to the front door.


	85. Chapter 85: Anticipation

**Chapter 85: Anticipation **

**Author's note**: Have you ever found the sight of a blank page intimidating? Daunting even? Jeez, what to put down on paper? I have no idea. Consider yourself forewarned, I'm just going to start writing and see what comes out.

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Friday, March 28, 2008

00:30 HRS Washington, DC

"Finally!" Harm exhales as he puts a key card into the lock of suite 619 of the Hotel Monaco. He pushes the door gently open allowing the women with him to enter first before he maneuvers the luggage trolley in from the hallway.

As the door closes on nearly silent hinges with nothing more than a soft metallic click, Mac pats his shoulder affectionately and chastises lightly. "Quit complaining Squid. The flight wasn't that bad. You're just really anxious to be here. I swear if the delay before takeoff had lasted another 5 minutes you would've offered to fly the plane."

"I'm anxious?" Harm points to himself and raises one eyebrow dramatically; almost comically. "You didn't eat anything at all in flight; four hours and forty-five minutes trapped on a plane without food. We're back in D. C. and you didn't beg to stop for a Beltway Burger. I hope this food boycott doesn't last until after the ultrasound tomorrow. You'll be homicidal."

Before rolling her eyes at him, Mac smiles for his mother's benefit; aware that the woman is watching and listening with the slightest of smiles on her face as she quietly wanders room to room and inspects their accommodations.

"First, it was four hours and fifty-one minutes." She corrects him with absolute certainty. And second, I'm not boycotting anything. Airplane food just leaves a lot to be desired. Lastly, It's after midnight here, Harm. We can stop at Beltway Burger tomorrow, or on Sunday before we leave. First, I'm going to text Harriet and let her know we're here. Then, I'm going to call Frank and check on Laura. After that, I'll call room service. Trish says they serve until 0200."

Retrieving her garment bag and small suitcase from the luggage trolley, Trish interrupts momentarily. "You text Harriet, darling. I'll call Frank… from the smaller of the two bedrooms. I hope Laura's not still awake, she has school tomorrow… or is it later today?" She questions briefly; momentarily at odds with the time difference.

Mac answers easily without the least bit of confusion or uncertainty. "If she were here in DC, it would be later today. In San Diego, it will still be tomorrow. She might still be awake but, if she is, I hope she's winding down for the night. If she is awake, put me on when you done; and it's not necessary for you to take the smaller room. You can have the larger room. This place is beyond extravagant when compared to… Well, when compared to any place Harm and I usually stay." Her eyes glow warmly and she chuckles quietly as she calls forth the memory of someplace that was an utterly dismal contrast to their current location. "Harm, do you remember that rat hole in Russia?"

Harm groans, but then flashes his grin. "Do I ever. I'm still trying to work the kinks out of my back from sleeping in that chair. He points to his wife as he begins relocating their luggage without waiting for his mother to object when he does, indeed, take the smaller of the two bedrooms that the suite offers. Talking as he goes, he calls over his shoulder. "But what I remember most is you telling off the desk clerk in Russian… and that white negligee…" He interjects, before continuing with his original thought process. "I still have no idea what you said to the poor girl."

Mac smiles mysteriously in quiet response to Trish's raised eyebrow as the woman moves from one of the bedroom doorways to the other, but since she is listening, Mac reserves any verbal comment strictly for Harm. "Yes well, I wasn't expecting company for the evening. Had I been, I might have chosen something for bed that was a little less flattering, and as for that desk clerk, when she realized you were American she took one look at your gold wings and decided I was nothing more than… Ahem… your evening entertainment. All I did was set her straight."

As she rummages through her handbag in search of her phone, Harm leans back, poking his head out though the door to their chosen room as he unbuttons his shirt.

"She thought you were… my evening entertainment?" Harm's jaw falls as the meaning of her words becomes clear.

Mac nods idly. "Um hmm… She tried to overcharge you for the room. She told her coworker that if you could afford a woman like me, you could afford two rooms."

"Mac, why didn't you tell me about this when it happened?"

Laughing, she takes in the curious expressions on the faces of both mother and son. "So you could do what? Defend my honor? Totally unnecessary. That Russian tart was not the first person to ever mistake me for a tramp. As catty as she was, she was a whole lot kinder than Joe ever thought about being… Besides, she was just jealous."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Jealous, huh?"

Phone in hand, Mac steps toward him, smiling, as Trish seizes the moment to quietly and politely excuse herself; stepping into her newly appointed room so that she might make her own call.

"Uh huh." Mac answers. "I've seen lots of women have that reaction because they misunderstood our relationship. Let's text Harriet. If she's asleep, it won't be enough to wake her. However, it will let her know that we made it in safely the next time she checks her phone."

After she steps through, Harm pushes the door until it is partly closed. Thus, allowing for privacy without seeming uninviting.

* * *

In the other bedroom, on her own cell phone, Trish says, "Yes darling, we made it safely here; though I wouldn't exactly call the flight uneventful. Take off was delayed for about 15 minutes. This did not please my son. In addition, he's worried because Mac didn't eat on the flight. I declare, Frank, being alone in their presence… Well it's like watching some grand adventure unfold before my eyes. Even in the calm quiet moments of the flight, they were restless with anticipation. For want of anything better to do, they started reminiscing. From the sound of things, I'd say they've both seem enough trouble, enough hair-raising adventure, to last half a dozen lifetimes a piece. I heard snippets of conversation about carrier quals, Okinawa, China, Russia, Bosnia, Afghanistan, not to mention a few other places. I heard about crossing the line ceremonies on board carriers. About the two of them being on opposite submarines that were apparently at odds with one another; threatening to fire on each other… No Frank, the submarine captains… Not Mac and Harm themselves. They were trying to be discreet, but as near as I could gather, they were trying to talk the captain's out of firing on one another. I heard about courtroom battles. In some of them they were on the same side, but the interesting ones were the ones where they seemed to be on opposing sides. There was something about a drunken goat. And something about an officer who had not one, not two, but three wives. There was something about a JAG marathon where a friendly competition got out of hand between the two of them. I'm not sure which but one or the other of them, maybe both of them, pilfered a Mig-29 at some point. There was mention of anti-personal mines, blown up Humvees, and Mac on TAD assignment, masquerading as someone's pregnant wife… It just went on and on. None of it seemed to frighten them, or even make them uncomfortable. It's all in the past, but Frank, it's like they're gearing up for the next big adventure… And I suppose they are. This is better than watching two kids sneak down stairs late on Christmas Eve."

* * *

At the same moment, in their own room, as Mac begins to text Harriett and Bud with her right hand, Harm takes her left in his and adjusts her wedding and engagement rings; turning them around on her finger until they are right side up and properly in place. Although she is busy with her phone, he watches the corners of her mouth turn upward in a slight smile in response to his touch and the emotion that comes with it. She knows without looking exactly what he's doing. It's become a habit in the few months they've been married; just one of the quiet ways he chooses to show his affection. If he isn't straightening her rings, it's her collar. Sometimes it's the sash on her robe. it's a necklace, or maybe the simple act of dropping a napkin lightly in her lap at mealtime. He still a bit reticent with the actual words. He probably always will be. But now that the simple act of touching is no longer something for the two of them to feel awkward about, he never seems to miss the opportunity to do so.

"Maybe we should stop saying things like that." He murmurs softly.

"Things like what?" She asks mildly distracted.

"That it was other people who did not understand our relationship. I'm starting to think, given recent events, that the only two people who didn't understand us… were you and me."

She nods without comment until she is done with her texting, and then she deposits her phone on the nearby dresser before rising on tiptoe and kissing him warmly on the mouth. "You may have a point there, Flyboy." She says in a whisper. She stays with him for a long moment; her arms draped loosely around his neck. For several beats she's content just to hold him, and to be held by him. She waits until they're both ready to let go before announcing, I'm going to see if your mom is on the phone yet. If she's busy talking to Frank, I'm going to order room service while I wait. I'm starving. You want a salad or something… Maybe some pasta?"

"No, it's too late for a heavy meal. Just order a side salad with whatever you get. I'll eat it."

"Who cares if it's late, Harm. I'm not going to be able to sleep anyway. She shakes her head in wonder as, for just a moment, they each revisit the low-current hum of anticipation. She smiles beautifully at him. "Tomorrow morning we'll go have breakfast with our godchildren. Tomorrow afternoon we'll go say hello to the next generation of our family."

* * *

**Author's Note: **I glossed over the reminiscences on purpose. I wanted to add more detail, and I reserve the right to do so later, but I've moved recently. All nonessential items are still in boxes; including all my JAG episode videos. I specifically wanted to double check mention of the "Russian tart." The way I wrote it is the way I remember it. If that's not the way it went down precisely, my apologies. I'll let you know if and when I decide to make changes.


	86. Chapter 86: Tiny People

**Chapter 86: Tiny People**

**Author's note**: First, please don't let the title of this chapter fool you. The ultrasound will be coming up in the next chapter. I promise. I just thought I would let you know that lest anyone should be misled and subsequently disappointed by the title…

Steamboat: Southeast Texas has had way too much rain recently. The Brazos River has broken its banks. Several neighbors and friends are temporarily displaced from their homes. So far, evacuation is voluntary for the immediate areas that have been most heavily affected, but several roads have been closed due to flooding. My brother left town about 10 days ago to go and visit our parents. He's been stuck with them, because although his neighbors tell him that flooding in the area immediately surrounding his home has begun to recede, the road that will bring him home is under 18 inches of water. However, my little corner of the world is soggy but relatively dry compared to places just two or three miles away.

The worst part is that local wildlife has been displaced by all this rain and flooding. People are having to kill a multitude of snakes and even alligators. I joked with my brother yesterday that I was going to send him some floaties so he could swim home but then I changed my mind and told him that if he went and got himself eaten up by an alligator, I was not, I repeat, not, raising his three children. I was blowing hot air; giving him a hard time just for the fun of it. God forbid they actually needed me to, of course, I would take them in with open arms.

However, none of that has anything to do with my most recent move. We can call it a move to higher ground if you like. It's more like a move to less painful ground. I needed a new start, some place where I wasn't bumping into memories every time I turned around. I'm not sure how well it actually worked. I still have the memories, but the actual physical packing up and moving gave me a distraction for a little while. That may have helped more than anything else has. It's at least part of the reason I dived back into writing. Some way to fill the hours. But, enough about that. Life marches on. We can either march with it, or get steamrolled by it. Well, I feel like I've been steamrolled. So, now it's time to get a big damn spatula and scrape myself up off the pavement.

On to a happier topic…

Friday, March 28, 2008

06:15 HRS Washington, DC

Tying her pearl gray robe at the waist, Trish slips silently on slippered feet into the suite's tiny kitchenette. Although, shocked to find her where she is, Trish waits quietly and patiently for Mac to finish pouring herself a cup coffee. She is pleasantly surprised when the Marine reaches out and hands her the steaming cup of dark roast without acknowledging, either through speech or eye contact, that she is aware of Trish's presence. Mac simply hands over the cup as she continues to peruse the front page of the morning paper and then reaches for another; repeating the process for herself.

"Good morning darling." Trish says quietly; her voice still slightly rasping with sleep. "I know 6 hours of sleep isn't considered a lot, but it should be enough to get by on. Why do I feel as though I've been forced to rise at some unholy hour?"

Mac's eyes flicker away from her paper for only an instant. "It's 03:15 in San Diego. I'm guessing you aren't often up at that hour.

Trish chuckles softly and tilts her head to one side before sipping her hot coffee carefully. "Even jet lag doesn't throw you off your game; I see."

"I've traveled too some pretty far flung corners of this world. No Marine worth their salt lets a little insignificant thing like jet lag gum up the works. I'm sorry I woke you."

Trish shakes her head. "You didn't. I woke up because I rolled over and the other side of the bed was cold and empty. I give Frank a hard time about the fact that he kicks all the blankets off the bed, and also because he talks in his sleep, but the truth is, I long ago got used to it. I miss him when he's not there… After I woke, I realized the shower was running. I figured you were in there. I was surprised to find you in here."

Nodding, Mac moves to the small dining table and settles into a chair; tucking one foot beneath her body before she pulls out the only other remaining chair; silently inviting Trish to join her. "Harm usually sleeps on top of all the blankets. Until last summer, I just assumed that was something he chose to do when with me because we weren't a couple. I'm not sure which is worse, having to tug at the blankets because he's lying on top of them, or knowing that if he'd weren't laying on top of them, I would probably have to get up multiple times a night to retrieve my blankets from the floor, because I'm pretty sure he would kick them off the bed too, if he slept under them. If he wants anything at all, it's usually just the top sheet. He stays so hot… It's like sleeping next to a furnace."

It's Trish's turn to nod. "He's always been that way. His grandmother, Sarah, used to fuss at me in her own maternal way. 'Trish Honey, hasn't anyone ever taught you how to swaddle baby? You're supposed to cover him up. Babies need that. They like it.' She gave pretty good advice most of the time. I usually followed it. But I remember, one day I finally had tell her, other babies may like it. Harm does not! I don't think she believed in me. At least not until she put him to bed herself a few nights later. Half an hour later she went to check on him. 'Call the doctor.' she said. 'He's kicked off his quilt. It's bunched up at the bottom of the crib. That room is cool, and he's burning up; he's sweating profusely." Trish shakes her head at the memory. "She actually thought he was running a fever. I told her to leave him uncovered and wait 10 minutes and all would be well. When it actually happened that way, she was mystified… Harmon was like that too, but, for him, it must've been a change that occurred in adulthood, or at the very least, after his infancy. She didn't seem to know about it where her son was concerned. Frank's not like that. He gets cold, he just likes the cold… At least when he's asleep. He can't stand to be cold when he's awake." She lifts a hand and yawns discreetly behind it.

"You can go back to bed if you want. Harm and I are both just too excited to sleep anymore. We barely slept as it was. If there's anybody more excited than me about today; it's him. We're going to have breakfast with the Roberts this morning; spend a little time with all of them. We can come back and get you, later, before the appointment."

Thank you darling, but that's not necessary. I'll manage. It'll just take me a little bit longer to get going today. And… If you two were awake most of the night… At least you were quiet because it's news to me. I usually don't sleep well in unfamiliar beds. Usually, the slightest noise will wake me, but last night I was out like a light."

"I'm not surprised. You put in nearly a full day at the gallery… Frank told me… Then you picked up Laura, cooked a few meals for the weekend for the two of them, and boarded a cross-country flight."

"True, but didn't you get Laura off to school before working a full day yourself, and then boarding the same flight? You seem to be okay."

Mac shrugs. I got used to running on little sleep a very long time ago. It used to be something I had a big problem with. Sleep was literally elusive for me. It's better now. I still don't need much though. I guess I got used to it. I have to say though, it's nice to be awake all night because I'm waiting for something good to happen… for a change." She smiles and then nods her head in the direction of the bathroom. "That's my cue." She says, abandoning her newspaper, but not her coffee cup, when they both recognize the sound of the shower shutting off. "Time to go pick out today's attire. By the time I do that, he'll be through in there."

An hour later they pull into the drive that Bud and Harriet's house. All three people getting out of the rental car smile at the sight of young A.J. Dressed for school; the blonde eight-year-old boy is trying valiantly to put a basketball through the hoop beside the family's garage. He tosses the ball. Almost makes it, but the ball rebounds off the rim and gets away from him. Catching it, Mac dribbles for a second before shooting from a distance of several yards away. When the ball swishes through the net, A.J. turns and looks their direction; noticing them for the first time an offering a bright smile.

"Sweet shot Aunt Mac; three points! I didn't know you could play basketball. Where'd you learn to shoot like that?" He picks up his ball and tries another shot.

"The Marine Corps." Mac answers dryly as she steps forward and attempts to run her fingers through the boy's hair affectionately.

A.J. ducks the attempt, stepping away quickly, but he looks up at her with wide eyes. "I thought the Marine Corps taught you how to shoot guns."

She chuckles. "Yeah, they taught me that too."

"Cool! Hey Uncle Harm. Good morning Miss Trish."

"Hey Champ. You're getting better with that ball." Harm encourages while Trish says with a warm smile, "It's nice to see you again A.J."

Before anything more can be said, the front door opens and without stepping out, or noticing that company has arrived, Jimmy Roberts bellows loudly "A.J. Breakfast!" The screen door slams.

"Okay, just two more shots." A.J. calls out.

The screen door opens again and his younger brother announces emphatically, "Mom says, now!" The screen door slams again and they all hear Harriet yell loudly from somewhere inside the house, "Don't slam the door… And no running; walk please!"

A.J. grimaces because play time is over but he does not complain. He picks up his ball but before he can make his way to the front door, Harm reaches down and scoops the boy up; settling him on one wide shoulder. A.J. giggles and nods enthusiastically as Harm carries him past the basket one last time. "Slam dunk!" He sings out happily from his lofty perch.

Mac catches the ball again before it can roll down the driveway and tucks it under her arm. As they move up the walk A.J. looks down at her. "Mom said you guys were coming for breakfast. She says you wanna talk to us about something."

Mac raises an eyebrow. "We do?"

"Uh huh, Mom says." He looks around curiously. "Where's Laura? Didn't you bring her with you."

"Laura's in San Diego with Mr. Frank." Mac explains. "She has school today too."

As they cross the front porch Mac leaves the ball in an out of the way a corner. As they enter the house A.J. has to duck to avoid bumping his head, but when he can sit up straight again on his uncle's shoulder, he complains, "You should've brought her with you. Can't she miss just one day?"

Patting the boy's knee Harm explains, "Aunt Mac only has temporary custody of Laura right now. That means she can't leave the state with Laura unless a judge says it's okay. There wasn't time to go to court to ask permission. If we had brought Laura to D. C. to visit with you, technically, legally, Aunt Mac would be guilty of kidnapping. That would land her in jail… And that would be no good. I would miss her."

A.J. looks to his godmother for confirmation, and when she nods in agreement with her husband, A.J. declares, "Uh uh! No good!" Before anyone can say anything else, he yells happily, "Mom, Dad, they're here!"

Bud greets them in the front hallway, smiling up at his son as he pats Harm on the back and offers Mac a quick hug. "Morning Ma'am." He says to Trish "Welcome, it's a lively house, but breakfast will be on the table very shortly, and then things will quiet down… At least for a few minutes." He laughs as Jenny bumps into him and nearly topples over on her way to throw her arms around Mac's legs in greeting.

Mac scoops the toddler up, hugs her, and settles her on a hip as Bud says, "Come on back."

They find Harriet in the house's formal dining room rolling up her youngest son's shirt sleeves so that they don't end up in the plate of fruit young Nicky is already eating. "Hi." She says happily. "Somebody started without you. I hope that's okay." She bustles about putting the finishing touches on the table setting as everyone nods and comments agreeably.

"Harriet what can we do to help?" Mac inquires and Trish concurs by following up with, "Please, put us to work."

Harriet laughs. "You can all sit down. That's what you can do." She surveys the table and the food waiting there. "It's done. All we need are the pancakes from the kitchen. Bud can get those, and the boys have to catch their buses in about 25 minutes so we're a little pressed for time."

Bud dutifully departs only to return seconds later with said platter of pancakes. They all take a few moments to settle in and help themselves to food before Mac inquires with a hint of uncertainty. "A.J. says there's something we want to talk to them about?"

Harriet picks up her napkin and nods behind it as she swallows a bite of food. We haven't told them yet. We thought it might be best to wait until you guys were actually here to explain things to them. That way, you get to help answer any questions they have."

"Oh…" Mac says mildly surprised. She looks around the table at the eager faces of her godchildren. "Okay." She smiles to Harm who is seated directly across the table from her, and raises an inquiring eyebrow.

He shrugs. "How hard can it be. We've already explained it to Laura."

"That's why we wanted you here." Bud offers. "Sorry, didn't mean to spring in on you like this, but Laura seems to understand it pretty well. However you guys told her, whatever you said… She's okay with it. We were just sort of hoping you could do it again… With a slightly bigger audience."

"Laura's okay with what?" A.J. wants to know.

Mac smiles at the boy. "Uncle Harm and I want to have a baby…"

"We know." Jimmy bites into a piece of bacon and his older brother finishes the thought for him. "Mom and Dad already told us."

"We're getting a cousin." The twin toddlers share the only bit of information their old enough to understand; both of them speaking simultaneously.

Harm sips his coffee before joining in. "The thing is guys, we're going to need a little help. Your aunt Mac can't carry a baby the way most moms do. So, we've asked, your mom and dad and they are okay with helping us out. Your mom is going to have a baby for us."

A.J. squints. The twins look at each other and shrug; each one's movements and facial expressions nearly a mirror image for the other. Jimmy looks at his mother. "Really? You can do that? Have a baby for somebody else?"

"Turns out, I can, sweetie… with a little help from some really smart doctors."

"Cool beans! If it's okay with you guys, it's okay with me." Jimmy shrugs and downs a big bite of pancakes."

"Well, I'm confused." A.J. announces. "Whose baby is it going to be; ours or theirs?"

Bud clears his throat. "A.J. Your mom is going to have their baby. This baby belongs to them; biologically, medically and legally."

"So… It's not going to live with us?"

Harriet shakes her head. "No son. After the baby is born he or she will be going home with Aunt Mac and Uncle Harm. It's their baby. This baby will live with them and they will take care of it, and love it, the same your dad and I take care of, and love, you and your brothers and sister."

The young boy seems to breathe a sigh of relief. "Okay then. I'm good. As long as I don't have to share my room with two people!"

Jimmy makes a face and sticks his tongue out at his older brother. "Yeah well, I don't like sharing a room with you either."

A.J. kicks him underneath the table, and Harriett scolds them. "Boys stop that! We don't behave this way in front of company, and A.J. that's mean of you. I hope, someday, when your cousin comes to visit you'll be nicer."

"Aww Mom! I'm not trying to be mean. There's just too many people in this house already. We don't need another baby. Long as it doesn't live here, I don't care. They can come visit. I'll share. I just don't want another brother or sister."

Harriet nods. "Well, we found out last week; I am going to have a baby but this baby won't be a brother or sister. He or she will just be a very, very special cousin who I hope comes to visit very often."

A.J. plays with his fork while he thinks something over. After a very long and very heavy pause, he asks, "So… The doctors really put their baby inside you?"

Harriet smiles and nods. "Yes, they really did."

"Did it hurt?"

Harriet shakes her head. "Nope. It felt a little strange maybe; but in a good way. Your dad was with me. So were Aunt Mac and Uncle Harm, and they are here today because we're going to see my doctor so he can do an ultrasound."

A.J. nods. "Okay, I know what that is. They're gonna take a picture of the baby. I remember when you have pictures of the twins… That was kinda cool. They looked like little tiny people shaped blobs."

Trish goes motionless and raises a curious eyebrow, her fork halfway between her plate and her mouth. "Little tiny people shaped blobs?"

A.J. nods eagerly. "Ain't ya never seen an ultrasound picture before?"

Harriet covers her face with her napkin in mild embarrassment. Laughing, she questions "Son, couldn't you phrase that a bit more properly."

"Sorry, but gosh Mom, I thought everybody knew about ultrasound pictures."

Trish chuckles quietly. "That's alright A.J. I know what they are. I've heard of them. I've just never actually seen one. They didn't do ultrasounds when your uncle was born. Today will be my first time to see such a thing."

A.J. grins and says earnestly. "They really do look like blobs.… At least my brother and sister did."


	87. Chapter 87: The Welcoming Committee

**Chapter 87: The Welcoming Committee **

**Author's note**: Lydia, yes, I've done research online regarding first trimester ultrasounds. However, no matter what the subject is, I always worry that what I find online may not necessarily be accurate. Comments made in your last review helped to confirm my own research. Thank you for that.

Additionally, I'm aware that medical professionals now Have 3-D imaging capability with ultrasound machines. To the best of my knowledge, those were not available in 2008. Even today, in some smaller medical establishments, those are still not available. Please keep that in mind as you read.

* * *

Friday, March 28, 2008

13:25 HRS Washington, DC

Dr. Charles Peltier is a man with a wide friendly smile and a face younger than his lion's mane of thick white hair would imply. Clad in the usual white coat and stethoscope, he steps out of a small exam room and motions for the four people waiting in the hallway to enter. Bud, Harm, Mac and Trish all wear expectant expressions as they walk single-file into the room.

Once inside, they find themselves cramped for space. There is little more than standing room in this space that is no bigger than a walk-in closet, but it is like every other exam cubicle they've never seen; two-tone linoleum flooring, walls painted in muted colors, exam table at an odd angle, stainless steel sink, countertop with jars of cotton swabs and tongue depressors resting on it, cheap mini blinds over one small window, out of date magazine stuck in a plastic pocket on the wall, various colorful posters alerting you to one condition or another, rolling metal stool for a medical professional to sit upon, and the one lonely uncomfortable chair that's always in someone's way no matter where they put it. The place smells the same too; like antiseptic, floor polish, hand sanitizer, and perspiration.

"How is she? Mac inquires straight away, giving Harriet a warm smile as Bud takes his wife's hand in his.

The doctor's blue eyes twinkle merrily when he answers, "If she were any better, it would be disgusting."

Sidestepping around Harm and the waiting ultrasound machine, Mac steps up to the exam table and takes the hand that Bud isn't holding.

"It's weird." Harriet declares with her usual sunny smile. "By this point in the pregnancy, all of my kids made me sick, tired, achy, and grouchy. This one… If Dr. Peltier wasn't telling me differently, I'd swear this one hadn't taken up residency." She looks pointedly at Harm and squeezes Mac's hand. "I think you guys may be in trouble. I have a feeling, this little one is saving all of his or her energy for Mom and Dad."

Mac chuckles quietly. "I don't want to worry you Harriett, but it's probably just the calm before the storm. This kid has both his and my genes." She points to Harm. "Something tells me…" She drops her voice to a whisper and sings. "He's going to be a handful."

The doctor smiles and Trish nods in silent assurance.

From her place on the exam table, Harriet laughs and rolls her eyes. "Oh, I'm not worried. Life with the two of you for friends has never been boring. I don't expect your baby to be either… And what do you mean, 'he?' It's way too soon to know."

Mac smiles mysteriously and quickly adds, "or she." While Harm shakes his head.

"She already knows he's going to be a boy." He tells Harriett, as well as everyone else in the room, with a loud whisper, "She just doesn't want to trust herself."

Mac reaches over and pokes him hard against the shoulder. "I just don't want you to be disappointed if someone else arrives."

Harm leans, back resting comfortably against the counter, he crosses his ankles and folds his arms over his chest. Looking meaningfully at his wife, he shakes his head again. "Will 'you' stop worrying? That's not even going to be possible. I don't care who arrives… I'll be thrilled." He winks at Harriet. "I'm already thrilled."

Being the only person in the room not already familiar with their normal banter, the doctor looks on quietly and curiously for a moment before interrupting. "This is only my third surrogate pregnancy. I'm very familiar with the process, but most of my patients carry and deliver their own children. I'm still getting used to having this many people in for an ultrasound. Usually, it's just Mom and maybe one other person. Gotta say, I like the contrast! Now we have a devoted aunt and uncle, Mom, Dad, and…" he raises an eyebrow for Trish's benefit.

She smiles serenely. "I'm Grandma."

Peltier nods. "And Grandma's here too. I like to see babies with healthy welcoming committees." He pauses to look at the faces of each of his guests. "And it's usually a pretty good sign when the baby is the calmest person in the room. Enjoy it while it lasts." He steps toward his patient and the waiting ultrasound machine. "Who wants to have a look?"

He chuckles quietly when every person in the room answers simultaneously "Me!"

While he retrieves his handy metal stool, sits, adjusts the height of his mobile perch, and begins to ready the ultrasound; Harriet unbuttons the lower portion of her blouse, and then winces slightly at the cold temperature of the gel he applies to her exposed abdomen.

"I know. It's cold. Sorry about that." He smiles at his patient.

She waves the comment aside. "You'd think I'd be used to it by now."

"Yeah, we've done this a few times." Bud says with a friendly smile. "Well… Not the surrogacy part… but you delivered our twins. They have two older brothers at home."

The doctor nods without making eye contact as he moves the imaging wand gently over Harriet's belly. staring at the screen, he says, "Yes, I'm aware. How are A.J. and Jimmy getting on? Do they know about this yet, and if so, what do they think?"

"Harriet flashes a happy but exasperated smile. "They are all fine; healthy children. Human whirlwinds. The twins are too young to understand, but they pick up on everyone else's excitement, so they're excited too. Jimmy's happy as long as we're happy. And A.J.… A.J. wasn't thrilled at first, but I think he'll be okay now."

While she talks, the doctor moves his wand, searching, and mutters quietly to himself, "Come on little one, where are you hiding."

As Mac finishes Harriet's thought aloud she, and everyone else in the room, step closer, crowding in for a better view. "A.J. is fine. He just wanted to make sure he wasn't getting a new brother or sister. According to him, there are already too many people in his house…"

"And our godson does not want to share his room with two people." Harm finishes up; sounding a tad uneasy and raising an eyebrow at the doctor's continued search. He stands up straight, no longer leaning on the counter behind him. "Is there a problem?" He moves to place a hand gently on Mac's shoulder and squeezes lightly.

Harriet shakes her head, but raises an eyebrow of her own anyway.

The doctor shakes his head as well. "Let's not worry yet. Sometimes they are just a bit camera sh… Yes," He points to the screen. "See, there's our mystery guest. Hello little one. Time to stop playing hide and seek and join the party."

Everyone stares as the grainy black and white image becomes marginally clearer. At first, no one is quite sure what they're looking at but then both Harriet and the doctor begin to point out different things as the onscreen image becomes definable. A life that is still, very nearly, microscopic reveals itself inside her womb.

"See, right now the baby's head is almost bigger than its body." Harriet points and smiles happily while the doctor uses his index finger to draw an outline around what they all should be looking at on screen.

"She's right. But then, she's seen a few of these. And Baby looks good too. Normal length for being right at nine weeks; about 24 mm in length to be more specific. I see some stubby little limbs starting to form. If you look close, you can see the very beginnings of fingers and toes. Yes, yes… Looks like we have precisely one very healthy baby. I see no cause for worry at this point." The doctor turns away from the screen and smiles first at the expectant parents, and then at his patient. "Good job Harriett… Mom… Dad."

The Marine in the room reaches for the hand on her shoulder, and the naval aviator steps up closer behind her. She leans into him and the embrace he offers. Moving his hand from her shoulder, he folds her into his arms. He's too mesmerized for words. She doesn't make a sound, but he feels the invisible tremor of emotion that dances through her shoulders. She looks down curiously when yet another arm finds its way around both of them, and although she returns her eyes quickly to the onscreen image, she smiles and pats Trish's hand softly.

Bud and Harriet hug while they observe with patience smiles, happy to let their friends have their moment, they remain quiet for several long minutes, all of them still gazing in wonder at the image of an unborn child still within its first trimester of life, until the instant when Harriet can no longer stand the silence. "Oh for Heaven's sake!" She whispers impatiently. "Somebody say something!"

Chuckling softly, Bud looks a little misty eyed when he whispers, "Honey, hush!"

Glancing at them with motherly concern, Trish senses that the new parents in the room may need a moment longer. Hoping to give them that time, she slips passed them and almost touches the screen; pointing. She addresses her question to the doctor. "This fuzzy area here; it looks like a tiny black hole, and it's flickering. What is that?"

The doctor grins and his ocean-colored eyes begin to sparkle with pleasure. "Ma'am, that would be your grandchild's heart… And it appears fuzzy because, it's not so much flickering, as it is… beating."

"Oh my… Well, that's just…" Speechless once again, Trish's right hand comes to rest over her own heart.

She inhales deeply and her eyes open wide as she first, attempts not to cry but then, when she catches sight of the tears slipping quietly from both her son's and her daughter-in-law's eyes, she surrenders a few of her own.

Finally spurred into motion by the sight of the emotion in his mother's eyes, Harm gently turns his wife in his arms, rubs her back, and lifts her chin for a sweet kiss. Holding her hand for as long as he is within reach, he hugs his mother fiercely and then let's go of Mac only long enough to trot over and wrap Harriet in an equally fierce and warm embrace. While he kisses the top the blonde's head, Mac approaches from the other side and throws her arms around the woman's neck as Bud gently thumps Harm on the back with male affection and camaraderie.

Squeaking with happiness, Harriet questions, "Have you two found your voices yet?"

In quiet response, Harm hugs her again and kisses her cheek as an awestruck Mac points at the image of her baby and quietly asks the doctor, "Can I just stand right here for the next seven months and stare at that?"

The doctor chuckles softly and shakes his head before saying tenderly "I'm sorry. No, I can't let you do that. However, I can print a few copies of the image for you to take home with you. And when we reach the last trimester, you can come back for a second viewing. We normally give expectant mothers… I'm sorry, forgive me, in this instance, I should have said patients… detailed progress reports of the child's growth along the way. Harriet will receive this information because she needs it in order to do her part to make certain that both she and the baby remain healthy, but you two are the parents. I'd be more than happy to send you and Captain Rabb copies of those same reports. I understand you traveled quite a long way to be here. I, therefore, assume you won't be able to attend every appointment. If you can supply my nurse with an e-mail address, I'll do what I can to ease the separation."

Mac frowns and bites her lower lip but nods agreeably. Harm returns to her and wraps his arms around her once more. With his chin resting on top of her head, he breathes. "Laura would commit mutiny if I left you here for the next seven months. I'd have to walk the plank!"

Mac's laughter is musical and she pats his shoulder affectionately before turning in his arms to face the doctor once again. "Okay, we have to go home, but we'll make sure your nurse gets that e-mail address for Harriet's file.

Still at his wife's side, Bud queries in a tone that implies he already knows the answer, "Trish, how was that for a first experience with an ultrasound?"

The smile she gives him is glorious. "You tell A.J. I said, that's the most precious little baby blob I've ever laid eyes on."

Harm throws back his head and laughs freely. Keeping one arm around his wife, he reaches for his mother with the other.

Harriet giggles. "You all are invited to dinner tomorrow night. You can come tell him yourself."


	88. Chapter 88: There's No Spare!

**Chapter 88: There's No Spare!**

**Author's note**: Amanda y, Hello, &amp; welcome aboard! Please return your seat to its upright position and fasten your tray table. Mac's favorite flyboy says It's going to be an interesting flight!

Thank you very kindly for your warm and friendly reviews. Because you are signed in as a guest when you leave your reviews, I cannot respond to them privately. If you want to contact me in a less public manor, I suggest signing up for a user account with fan fiction .net. They are free of charge, and once you are signed into a user account, I can contact you through private messaging. For privacy reasons, I do not want to post my e-mail address here. I can answer one question for you though. Chapter 87: The Welcoming Committee was posted on June 11, 2016. Yes, I'm currently writing this story. Yes, there will be more shortly.

When writing, my goal is to obtain a minimum of 1500 words per chapter. I usually do better, though not always. Some of my beloved readers like to good-naturedly complain about my painfully short chapters. All I can say (to all who read this; not just Amanda) is that you have no idea how much work I put into those 1500 words. J At some point during the day, I do have to actually go be a person and live a life. I can't just move in with the Family Rabb. Golly gee! If only I could! Wouldn't that be swell! I figure, if I shoot for 1500 words per chapter, maybe someday, hopefully before I'm dead, I'll get finished writing this epic.

Y'all have a good night, and blessed be!

* * *

Friday, March 28, 2008

19:32 HRS Washington, D.C. Hotel Monaco

Mac leans casually against the bathroom door jamb with her hands folded behind her six. Surprised to find the room heavy with steam and the mirror fogged over, she inquires, "Harm? Are you in the shower again?"

With his palms against the wall, head down, water cascading over his neck and shoulders, he mutters, "Uh huh. Played ball with Sturgis this afternoon; got hot and sweaty. You and Mom get back from wherever it was you disappeared to?" He turns to look at her, resting his elbows against the top of the shower wall and surprised by what he sees, he whistles low. "You went and got all prettied up Marine!"

Mac, with her hair loose down passed her shoulders, in a white dress printed with bold red hibiscus flowers and matching heels, laughs as she rolls her eyes. "We told you we were going to the hotel spa."

"You did? I thought you said you were spending some more time with Harriett?"

Reaching into the room, Mac grabs a towel from the nearby rack and playfully tosses it at his face. "Harriett was with us; at least for a while. Bud had to go to work this afternoon. A.J. and Jimmy were in school, and her mother had the twins for a few hours. She was here until about 16:30."

Harm catches the towel and tosses it over the top of the wall before he squints. His watch is lying on the shelf over the sink. He doesn't know exactly what time it is, but he's pretty sure it's after 19:00. "You've been down in the spa this whole time?"

Smiling, she leans back against the door jamb; stretches and purrs with satisfaction.

"I'll take that as a yes. What do you ladies find to do in there for so many hours? I went to the Wall and sat with Dad for about an hour and then played basketball with Sturgis. I still made it back here before you two."

"Yeah well, you have no interest in massages, hot tubs, facials, makeovers, manicures, or pedicures… At least not beyond enjoying the fact that I went out and got… all prettied up. She forms quote marks in the air with her fingers. "All this… pretty… takes time Harm. Your mom suggested we take Harriet. She's got four kids under the age of nine, and we're asking her to give birth to another one. She could use a little pampering. I wasn't about to say no." She pushes herself away from the door jamb, standing upright. "Get out of the shower. Get dressed." Walking away, she calls over her shoulder. "We're going out."

Even though she's not there to see it, He grins and snaps off a stiff salute. "Yes Ma'am!"

From the living area of their hotel suite, without turning around, Mac draws a raised eyebrow from Trish, who is waiting on the sofa, when she announces loudly, "Knock it off Squid! I saw that!"

Shutting off the water, and wrapping the towel she threw at him around his hips, he playfully calls back. "You did not!"

* * *

Twenty minutes later Harm pulls out of the hotel parking lot. "Okay ladies, where are we going?"

"I made reservations at the Double Eagle." His mother answers from the backseat.

Harm nods "Nice Mom. You didn't have to do that. Mac and I are fine with something a bit more low-key."

"I know. But I haven't been to D.C. in years. Long as I'm here, I might as well enjoy it."

"Okay then, the Double Eagle it is."

They set out for the drive in a comfortable silence. Ten minutes in, and Mac finds a station on the radio and turns it down low; the tune playing is sultry and melancholy. Trish listens to the woman with a husky voice singing to a melody she's never heard, but something about it is familiar anyway. She puzzles over it for a moment, giving it serious contemplation before she asks, "Where have I heard this?"

Harm immediately shakes his head and shrugs; effectively saying, "I don't know." Without ever speaking.

Because she likes the tune, Mac gives it a few seconds thought before she begins to shake her own head but then stops. "Day after Halloween. You stopped by. Chloe was sitting at the kitchen bar, eating cereal, reading something… The Navy Times, I think. She was singing; entertaining herself. The artist's name is Julie Roberts. It's called Rain On a Tin Roof."

Astounded, Trish declares, "That's incredible. That was almost five months ago. You actually remember all that?"

Mac shrugs. I just remember because it was a big day. Chloe had just had her opening at your gallery the night before. The check she'd gotten for the previous night had made her so excited that she got us out of bed at nearly midnight." She laughs as she imitates Chloe. "Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and the camel! The next morning, she was singing to herself. When she left the room, you told me she was fabulous. We all went to Magellan. Laura played golf with Frank. It was a good da…" There's a sudden undefinable shift in the car's driving and Mac pauses, unsure of what she senses. "Harm?" She questions the same instant that the right rear tire blows.

In the time it takes to blink, Harm grits his teeth and glances into the rearview mirror to see what's coming behind them. Thankful they aren't about to be hit from behind, he grips the steering wheel hard with one hand and fights to keep the car under control. He eases off the gas, taps the brakes, and purely on instinct, throws his right arm out sideways, catching Mac across the shoulders as she jerks forward in spite of her seatbelt's restraint.

With her right hand against the dashboard she says, "I'm alright. Both hands on the wheel Harm… Use both hands." By the time she finishes fussing at him, he's already on shoulder of the road, and pulling into the parking lot of a rundown bar; a hard unfriendly looking place.

Looking around, Mac breathes a sigh of relief.

"Everybody okay? Harm breathes quietly. Placing his hand on the back of Mac's seat, he turns and looks at his mother before reaching down to engage the emergency brake and looking at Mac with a raised eyebrow?

Mac nods quietly and pats his thigh as Trish answers, "Okay back here darling. Bit stunned, but no worse for wear.

He reaches back and squeezes his mother's hand briefly before he touches Mac's face. "Sorry about that. Didn't mean to smack you. I was just…"

She smiles. "You didn't smack me Harm, and there's no need to apologize, you were just… protecting me."

"Okay. Stay here. I'll go have a look." Mindful of his surroundings, he exits the vehicle, leaves the driver's side door open, and walks around the other side to assess the damage. Muttering to himself, he opens the trunk.

"Long seconds later, they hear him swear quietly. "Damn it!"

Puzzled by what is atypical language for him, Mac glances in the rearview mirror and sees, by the expression on Trish's face, that she isn't the only one surprised by the utterance. She opens her own door as she removes her seatbelt. "Harm?"

"There's no spare!"

She squints. "Of course there's a spare." She argues lightly as she steps one foot outside the vehicle.

The look on his face is somewhere between a grimace and a grin. "Well, you wanna come show me where? He fires back in mild challenge.

She smiles at Trish over the back of the front seat as she exits and quickly steps to his side. It doesn't take more than a second for it to realize that he's right. There's no spare in the trunk. With one hand on the car for support, she bends at the waist and looks underneath the rear of the car. No spare. Shocked, she looks at him apologetically and shrugs. "There's no spare."

"This is what I'm saying." Harm flashes his grin at his wife.

She puts her hands on her hips and turns a half circle in frustration. "There's no damn spare."

In spite of his irritation, Harm can't help but chuckle. "Is there something wrong with your hearing Jarhead?"

Without answering him, she walks around to the front of the car, sits down in the driver's seat, and reaches across the console for her handbag. He follows, and stands there beside her; one hand on the roof of the car watching and listening as she calls the rental car agency, explains the problem, gives them their location, and demands, in the bone chilling tone, that a new vehicle be brought out to them, or at the very least, that someone be responsible for bringing them a new tire." She hangs up the phone. "They say it'll be 30 minutes. Which probably means an hour or more. We can't walk anywhere from here and get back in less than that time, so I told them we'd be in there." She points to the bar. The sign on the roof says, 'Buddy's.'

Harm looks at the roadhouse with an obvious lack of desire. "Mac, we can't go in there." He hisses quietly.

"Well, I'm not gonna sit here in the car waiting for God knows how long. Don't worry Squid…" She stands up and straightens her skirt. "I won't let the big bald man with all the tattoos get you." The smile she gives him when she pats his shoulder is full of sass.

"Not what I'm worried about… And how do you know there's a big bald tattooed man in there?"

She rolls her eyes and offers him a brilliant smile. "There always is at least one in a joint like this. Usually more than one, they tend to travel in packs." She opens Trish's car door for her. "Stop worrying Flyboy. Your mom's a big girl."

Stepping out of the car and placing her pocketbook under her arm, Trish smiles in response to the worry in her son's eyes, she places an arm around Mac's shoulders. As Harm reluctantly follows them across the parking lot, Trish whispers harmoniously in Mac's ear, this is going to be interesting."


	89. Chapter 89: I Don't Live here Anymore!

**Chapter 89: I Don't Live Here Anymore**

* * *

**Author's note**: Voice recognition is really fighting me tonight for every word, and I have no idea why. I'm neither hoarse nor congested. But I have to stop early before I throw the computer out the window. So it's not much tonight, but here's what I got.

* * *

Buddy's Roadhouse

Washington, DC

20: 26 HRS

Harm quickly steps around the women intent on opening the door for them even if he wishes they weren't so determined to cross the threshold of this obviously seedy place. Before the door is open, his mother raises an eyebrow, inhales deeply, and inquires, "What is that I smell?"

Mac's facial expressions and mannerisms mirror Trish's as she pauses; a question in her own eyes as she too inhales deeply before answering. "Let me see. That would be, stale beer, urine, cigarette smoke, a few other things you don't even want to know about, a twist of lime, a pinch of salt, tequila, sawdust…" She smiles with delight before continuing. "Stewed tomatoes, beef, onion, garlic, jalapenos… And some other spice I can't quite make out. Whatever it is… they have chili in there! Mix it all up together with the smell of male machismo and testosterone."

Harm groans aloud. "Now you want to eat here too?"

Trish nods in response to most of what she said and then laughs. "Testosterone? If you can actually smell that darling, you must be part bloodhound."

Mac lifts one shoulder in an easy shrug. "Watch, the men will outnumber the women 5 to 1 in this joint." She shimmies her hand side to side in the air before adding, "Approximately."

Rolling his eyes in response to his wife's comments, Harm opens the door bowing slightly and waving them inside.

One foot over the threshold, and Trish isn't in the least bit surprised to find the place littered with coarse looking people who do not live easy lives. Mac's right, 80% of them are male, and the place is hazy with cigarette smoke and bad lighting. She looks back over her shoulder when the door behind her doesn't close in the usual amount of time. She finds an odd expression on her daughter-in-law's face.

For just a flicker in time, before she smiles brightly, the Marine looks mildly confused, hesitant, and even slightly green around the gills as the shadow of some unsettling emotion fills her dark eyes with an eerie light.

Before Trish can question what she sees, Harm leans over Mac's shoulder from behind. Although Trish is quite certain he missed seeing the residue of darkness that paid a fleeting visit, she's equally certain that he somehow sensed it when he questions, "What is it Mac…?" Lowering his voice to a whisper, he touches her shoulder. "You okay Ninja Girl?"

Trying too hard to be convincing, she nods adamantly and then adds in a dazed and hushed voice, "God Harm…" She looks around; obviously mystified by the sight of the hardwood floor littered with peanut shells, the scarred and battered table tops and chairs, the pool table, the people, and the bar. "it's like stepping back into the past."

Draping an arm loosely around her shoulders, he breathes quietly as they move beyond the doorway, "Stepping back into whose past? Yours?"

She nods, temporarily beyond the capability of words.

Obviously perplexed, Harm asks, "Then why are you smiling?"

Before she can answer, the 60-something year old barrel-chested barkeep clad in flannel shirt, and jeans with a dish towel thrown over one shoulder asks, "You folks lost?" He picks up an empty glass and begins wiping it down with his dish towel as Mac hops up onto an unoccupied bar stool and motions for Harm and his mother to follow.

She offers the stocky barkeep with friendly green eyes a genuine smile. "They might be. But I'm not."

He takes in the look of all three of them. They're all overdressed for this joint. The tall man and the older lady; they don't frequent places like this, but the younger one; there's something familiar in the depths of her dark eyes. He studies her last and longest. At length, he agrees. "No, you're not lost, are you honey?"

Her smile stretches a bit wider and she shakes her head adamantly. "We have a flat tire. Just killing time until the rental agency brings us the spare tire they forgot to put in the trunk. This your place?"

He shakes his head and holds out his hand. "I'm just the grunt who keeps the drinks cold and the food hot. Name's Garrett."

She shakes the hand offered with enthusiasm. "Hello Garrett. Call me Mac."

"Mac, huh? Is that short for Mckenna or something like that?"

She smiles mysteriously. "Something like that."

He chuckles. "Okay Mac, what are you and your friends drinking?"

She glances over at Harm, smiling sweetly before answering, "He wants a beer. Bring him whatever's on tap."

"And for the lady and yourself?"

Repeating the process, Mac glances at Trish. Returning her eyes to Garrett she answers, "Better bring her two fingers of your absolute best."

He nods and smiles. "Got it. No rotgut then?"

Trish smiles at the easy bar room banter. "Thank you, no."

"Bring me a tonic water with a twist." Mac says, drawing a raised eyebrow from the man.

"Don't like the taste of the stuff or…"

"Just don't do that anymore." They say in unison.

He nods somberly. "I thought I recognized a fellow reformed soul."

Mac chuckles derisively. "It's just my habits that have been reformed. My soul still as a long way to go. We'll pick a table."

"Okay. Want food while you wait?"

She shakes her head. "I smell chili but…"

"Best this side of the Mason Dixon." He grins proudly. I'll get you a bowl."

Mac shakes her head again. "I'm guessing you don't have anything of the vegetarian variety in this dive."

Garrett throws back his head and laughs boisterously. "The animals that come in here… They aren't too health conscious. Three fourths of what's on the menu should be served with mandatory quadruple bypass surgery."

She smiles. "Didn't really think so. We'll skip the food."

"Your choice. Peanuts? Chips and salsa?"

"Ummm… Now the chips and salsa I'll take."

"Okay. I'll bring it out to you, along with your drinks."

As they leave the bar and cross the room to an out of the way corner, one of the bar's patrons catches sight of, and recognizes the tall military lawyer and one of his female companions. Shocked to find either of them here in this place, he watches them silently as malice tightens his jaw.

Harm pulls out two chairs simultaneously. When Trish chooses the one nearest her, Mac politely shakes her head and waves Trish into the other. "Since I'm guessing you don't spend a lot of time in places like this, you take that one."

Nodding graciously, Trish also raises an eyebrow. "What does my lack of experience with such places have to do with my place at the table?"

It's Harm who answers discreetly as he pushes in her chair. "Safest seat at the table. Keep your back to the wall… always." He chooses the seat with the greatest risk of exposure for himself before he tends to Mac's chair as well. As he settles into his own seat, he glances once more at the out of place expression on his wife's face. "You never answered me. If it's like stepping back into the past, why are you smiling?"

She reaches under the table and pats his thigh affectionately. "Because I don't live here anymore!"

He scowls. "Mac! You can't live in a place like this! No one can!"

Amused by his confusion, she chuckles lightly. "Actually Flyboy, you can. I just wouldn't recommend it."


	90. Chapter 90: Leave the Past Behind

**Chapter 90: Leave The Past Behind**

**Author's note**: Okay. I figured out what the problem was with voice recognition. The problem wasn't the software. The problem was the operator; meeting me! Don't you just love human error? Probably about 18 months ago, I splurged and bought a wireless headset. I spent what I consider to be an obscene amount of money to buy this handy little gadget. I did so because the cord that comes attached to non-wireless headsets is always too long. If you live your life sitting on six wheels, you're forever getting things like that caught up in your wheels. Hence, the reason I refused to spend serious money on such things. I was always destroying them. Turns out, more expensive ones, as advertised, really do have better quality microphones. That's not just a sales pitch. The wireless headset does have to be plugged in to charge, but it does not have to be plugged in while in use. No more cord, no more obliterating headsets. However, back when I first bought the thing, the computer I had did not have blue tooth capability. I had to use the adapter that came with the headset. The laptop I recently purchased does have blue tooth and the two devices will sync up without the adapter. However, without the adapter, accurate dictation is apparently significantly more difficult. I can only guess that the adapter makes the signal stronger and therefore, interpretation is more accurate. The adapter in question is usually always plugged in. I only took it out yesterday so I could play music for someone other than just myself. Usually, I just wear the headset to listen to music. The walls in my new place are thin. I don't like disturbing my neighbors. Problem was, last night, when I was dictating the previous chapter, I forgot that I had yanked the adapter out. Therefore, my computer was still accepting dictation; it was just doing a very poor job of interpreting what I said. Problem fixed!

Along the same lines, I know several of you read the last chapter before I got to the edits. Why is it, that no one told me I had inadvertently CC 'd all of you in on the welcome home text message I sent to my sister? You guys really are too kind. I guess you'll just decided to ignore it. Dictation errors or misinterpretations are usually just one or two words that sound the same as what I'm actually trying to say. They don't usually look like brief sentences that literally read, "Welcome home Sister! See you soon!" I had a good laugh at myself. My sister lives out of state. She comes home twice a year to visit; summer and sometime around the Christmas holiday. She's here. Her flight was due in at 8:40 PM yesterday. I was sitting here, dictating away, when my phone sent me a reminder message. "Text your sister." I thought I had turned the computer's microphone off. I hit a button. Apparently, I hit the wrong button. I activated the microphone on my phone, send a message, gave up on writing because I thought voice recognition was being glitchy, and went to color my hair. It does no good to proofread immediately after dictation. My mind knows what is supposed to be on the page. So, that is what I see whether that is what is actually on the page or not. I have to wait a while; long enough to forget my exact wording, and then proofread. So there I was 45 minutes later, waiting for my hair color to set, proofreading away, and lo and behold, my text message to my sister was smack in the middle of the chapter, and nobody said a thing. People, it's OK to laugh at me when I do stupid stuff like that!

Before I get on with the story,I have to share something else funny. According to Webster's dictionary, pulchritude is defined as the capacity for finding beauty in unexpected or ugly places. Example; the rainbow that can often be seen in an oil slick. While visiting today, Mama was asking how my housekeeper's son is recovering. He's 18, and is in the hospital following surgery to clear a bowel blockage that occurred because of a mal-rotation. Fortunately for him, they caught it before it ruptured. About 10 years ago, Daddy had one that did rupture. We nearly lost him more than once, as a result. The initial surgery to fix the damage required that nearly a foot of his intestine be removed. As a result, the scar tissue that formed caused a mal-rotation which led to another blockage and a second surgery. He was on a feeding tube for nearly two months and lost nearly 60 pounds. He's not a heavy man. We thought we were literally watching him waste away. Needless to say, he scared all his happy little monkeys right out of our trees. Because mom was asking about my housekeeper's son, she told us that when they repaired damage in Dad's a second surgery, they implanted some kind of Teflon mesh to prevent further mal-rotation at the site. This was news to me. I don't remember hearing about that ten years ago. It's one of those little factoids, I would have remembered, had I heard it. Daddy literally has Teflon coated guts! So, this morning, upon hearing this, my first question was, "Does he set off metal detectors? Ridiculous, I know, but there it is. Without so much as cracking a smile, my sister dryly answered, "No, but eggs don't stick when he eats his breakfast." First, I nearly choked trying not to spit out a mouthful of coffee, then I laughed until I cried. I never thought we would ever find any beauty, much less humor, in that dark and ugly experience. Today we did.

* * *

Buddy's Roadhouse

Washington, DC

20:40 HRS

Harm's stare is intense. "How exactly does one live in a nightmare place like this?"

"I betcha this place has a room back behind the bar. I use the word 'room' loosely, of course. If it exists, it's more like a large rat hole. It probably has a bed roll, or if one is lucky, a cot in it; along with a lamp, and some variety of cheap safe for storing cash. The guy who sweeps up after closing might live there. The presence of someone like that keeps vandals and thieves out after closing. It's cheaper than an alarm system; which technically won't keep anyone from stealing anything. Anyone looking to steal anything, smashes a window, goes in with the alarm blaring, hacks the unimpressive safe, and is long gone before the first patrol car ever does a drive-by. Give said guy free room and board in the back room, you get an alarm system that actually will deter theft, and you can pay him in cash, under the table, because chances are, he's got a record and is looking to avoid a paper trail. It's much cheaper than the amount of money respectable places shell out for more state-of-the-art security.

"Yeah, but can you trust the guy not to clean you out himself." Harm inquires, pointing out the obvious pitfall.

Mac shimmies her hand side to side in the air, "Maybe. Not everybody with a record is a thief, or dishonest."

As Garrett approaches with their drinks and appetizer, they wait to continue the conversation until he departs again; offering a polite "If you need anything else, just give a yell."

They all nod in agreement and Trish waits until the man is a discreet distance away before commenting, "I'm much more interested in exactly how you know all this Mac?"

Mac lifts one shoulder in a shrug but has the good grace to look mildly uncomfortable. She futilely stirs her drink with a swizzle stick as she admits, "I used to be married to the guy who swept up after closing. When I said, I don't live your anymore, I meant it. Not this place exactly, but one very much… and very depressingly like it. It was the first place we lived after I bailed on Joe. I knew that Chris would boost anything with four wheels to go for a joyride. However, at that point, I still didn't think he would literally steal someone's livelihood. When he did clean out the safe in the back room, and was accused, I defended him. When I found out the truth, we had our first really important fight. I remember being shocked, literally hurt. I remember screaming at him. "That guy gave us a place to live, and you go and… What the hell is wrong with you? Are you stupid? Things went downhill from there. After that, it never got any better between us." Mac reaches for and plays with a tortilla chip idly, her face stricken, as if she thinks that somehow she's the one who failed at something.

"Darling, I'm hardly think that's reason for you to blame yourself. If it ever was, it's not now. Certainly not after all this time." Trish reaches out and squeezes her free hand affectionately.

"Yeah, but even 17 and drunk, I knew that screaming at Chris wasn't good. It didn't accomplish anything helpful. The louder I screamed, the worse he got. I'd scream, he'd go steal another car, just to get away from me. I'd yell, he'd find the nearest exit and go through it. He was not like Harm." She offers a watered down smile, "If I scream at him, it might take him a few minutes, but he'll usually do whatever he has to, in order to fix it. He's also pretty good about not doing the same stupid thing twice. Screaming at him probably isn't good either, but at least it's effective. Chris just dug himself in deeper every time I yelled at him. I knew that. I could've tried harder."

With flint in his blue eyes, and sandpaper in his voice, Harm whispers, "Harder than what, Mac? In the first place, you were not wrong to be angry with him. You had every right. It took you some time but, you finally left the guy; got rid of him. He came back more than 10 years later because he was in trouble. You did what you could to help him. In return, he blackmailed you, nearly killed you; and when he died, you could have gone to prison. Just exactly how much harder were you supposed to try?"

"Not aware of the finer details, Trish can't help but be curious. However, she knows this isn't the moment to ask for clarification, so she waits quietly.

Mac shrugs; silent for a moment before she admits, "I just meant I've always felt like I should've tried harder back then… In the beginning. I guess I've never really looked at the whole picture at the same time. Not like you just did. It's not easy going through life thinking you owe a debt it's too late to repay. Maybe it clouds the perception."

Letting go of some of his tension, he softens his voice slightly. "Well, if you ever did owe Christopher Ragel any debt it was long ago paid… in full." He smiles. "So, give yourself a break Jarhead!"

She smiles tentatively and finally stops playing with her chip. Feeling at least a little better, she says softly, "Kay." and reaches for the salsa that he is only too happy to push a little closer to her. It's not a good sign when his Marine would rather play with her food than eat it.

They sit quietly for a while, munching on chips and salsa, sipping drinks, and keeping a cautious eye on the room around them and its rowdy occupants. People drink and play pool, or darts. Some of them shout. Men and women playing either game, laugh loudly as they strive to one-up each other; talking trash that is peppered heavily with vulgar language. The room is hot and reeks of cigarette smoke, stale liquor, high cholesterol food, and too many bodies in too small a space.

All the while, the thin gray haired man at the dark end of the bar sits, watching them. He slowly nurses his latest beer and as he does, the dark robust lager slowly nourishes his rage.

A while later when a man wearing khaki pants and a green polo shirt with the name of a rental car company embroidered on it just below his left shoulder opens the door and stands rooted in place, jingling a set of car keys and obviously afraid to cross the threshold, Mac catches sight of him and smiles. Touching Harm's shoulder, as she leaves the table; she walks to the door, speaks to the red faced young man briefly, and then motions for Harm and Trish to join her.

As they leave the table, Trish picks up Mac's handbag, bringing it Harm catches Garrett's eye, and drops a $20.00 bill on the bar. He nods in both gratitude and farewell and the barkeep with the salt and pepper stubble nods back and offers him an informal two-fingered salute. Leaving the place behind, Harm remains in his mother's wake until they clear the building.

Outside, he offers her his arm as they cross the parking lot. At first, Mac is several steps ahead but when she stops to say something to the young man who has already changed the flat tire on the rental car, they catch up quickly.

The rental car agency employee apologies politely for the trouble but he doesn't bother to waste time sticking around. Mac chuckles quietly as he gets back into his own car and drives away without looking back. "Poor kid. He's probably just trying to pay for college. I think he was scared witless. He looks like one of the nerds in the movie Sixteen Candles, or…" She looks at Harm curiously. Was it, Weird Science?"

Chuckling quietly, Harm nods. "Weird Science; I think. Not the blonde one, Anthony Michael Hall, the other one; the dark-haired one." Because he understands her dilemma, he flashes his grin "I know who you're talking about… But I don't remember his name either."

The door of Buddy's Roadhouse opens behind them, but too caught up in their own conversation, none of them pays it any mind. Happy to be on their way, they pay no attention to the man approaching until a slurred voice calls angrily, "Rabb!"

Puzzled, but not yet alarmed, Harm turns; his curiosity evident in his eyes. When he sees the fist headed straight for his jaw, his first instinct is not to protect himself but his mother, who turned at the same moment he did, and is now, at least partially in the path of danger. He pushes her out of the way and attempts to sidestep the blow, but it's too late to avoid it completely. He would've felt its full impact if it hadn't been for his wife turning just in time. With her eyes going wide in alarm, Mac lunges forward. In the same movement, she propels herself sideways, slamming into the man with her full weight. She knocks him off balance so that even though the blow connects, it's only a glancing blow because, much to his surprise, the drunk is already on his way down.

She feels gravel split the skin of one knee and the opposite arm just below her elbow, and it bites deep, but she pushes herself up off the man; glaring. She's tempted to kick him while he's down, but before she can it occurs to her that there's something familiar about his face. It takes a moment for recollection to slide all the way home, but when it does her head snaps up and she looks at Harm with utter disbelief. Before she speaks to her husband, she addresses the man at her feet with an ominous growl. "You stay down!"

As he flexes his jaw in response to the pain of the pre-empted assault, Mac demands, "Harm, what the hell?"

As he holds out a hand in warning to stop his worried mother from returning to his side, he tilts his head from one side to the other as though he were trying to dislodge water from his ears and shrugs. "I have no idea. Ask him!" He points aggressively.

"You!" the man grunts already coming back to his unsteady feet and attempting to lunge at Harm.

Whether she recognizes him or not, the angry Marine has had all she's going to take from this man. Reaching out, she grabs his shirt front, hauling him upright before stepping back, planting her heel, and slamming her right fist into his nose. Cartlidge crunches, his eyes instantly tear, and blood flows; bright red and fresh. When he hits his knees, howling in pain and protest, she whispers with deadly calm, "I said, stay down!" She folds her arms over her chest and gives him a look that could morally wound.

Defeated, he folds in on himself, sitting down on top of his own heels. Trish eyes the obviously broken man with an understandable mix of uncertainty, anxiety, anger, and intrigue. He'd reeks of cheap liquor, poor diet and sweat. He's badly in need of a shave and a haircut. His clothes look as though they've never seen the hot side of an iron and never will. Whoever he is, he just attacked her son with no obvious provocation.

Harm glares at the man at his mother demands quietly, "Who are you? And just exactly what, in God's name, is your problem?"

Gently taking his mother by the elbow and wrapping his other arm around Mac's waist, Harm continues to scowl, and shakes his head. He looks down at his assailant with what his mother thinks is an odd mix of loathing and pity "Don't bother talking to him, Mom. Let's just go. He can't cause any more trouble than he already has."

Not willing to turn her back on him just yet, Mac glances backwards as they begin to move. She really wants to get out of here before the man does anything more or, God forbid, says anything hateful or unwarranted to upset Harm.

Unaware of his identity, Trish is less eager. She gently, but stubbornly, pulls free and turns to face the wretched man with her hands on her hips. "No!" She says softly, but resolutely. I want an answer to my question… And I want one now!"

The man on his knees in the gravel looks at the three of them. He's not certain which one he should fear most; the naval officer with his obvious disdain and sickening pity, the pissed off Marine, or the man's classy, but incensed mother. He stares mutely.

Because what he really wants most, what he wants even more than he wants to slug the miserable bastard, is to get his women away from this man, and knowing from experience that she's not about to be led quietly away, Harm answers for him. "Mom… Judging by the hatred in his eyes, I'm guessing he blames me for her absence…this is Tom Johnson. He used to be Mattie's father."


	91. Chapter 91: No Good Deed

**Chapter 91: No Good Deed...**

**Author's note**: CRB, no, I don't think it's bad at all. Snicker all you like! You made me do it too. I hadn't thought of it that way. You're quite right, even with Mom along, the Dynamic Duo still can't make a reservation! ROFL

* * *

Buddy's Roadhouse

Washington, DC

21:10 Hours

With one arm around his wife, and the other around his mother, Harm walks away with purpose in his step. It's best not to give this man any more than he has already taken. So, with ground eating strides, Harm closes the distance between himself and his waiting rental car.

"She's not absent Rabb! She's dead! And just exactly what the hell do you mean… I used to be her father? I still am!" Tom Johnson slurs loudly as he comes precariously to his feet.

Opening the rear car door for his mother and closing it behind her, Harm places one elbow on the roof of the car and looking over Mac's shoulder, he glances Johnson's way before sliding in behind the wheel. "I'm painfully well aware of that fact Tom… And, if you're still her father, then why don't you do her a favor, and try acting like it." He gestures in response to the man's unkept appearance, his current location, and his regrettable slovenly alcohol dependency. "You don't seriously think this is what she wants for you?"

Taking unsteady steps; bobbing and weaving as he walks, like a child's clown shaped pop-up punching bag. He slowly comes closer. "She doesn't want anything Rabb… Not anymore. You gave her what she wanted, and now she's dead." He slurs with something darker than anger in his words.

Harm squints incredulously. The anger he expects. It is no surprise. Although, his wife says it's far from warranted, he's felt that often enough upon looking into any mirror. However, the other emotion currently being hurled at him is such a shock that he can't help but laugh bitterly; catching both Johnson and his wife by surprise. He shakes his head. "I can't believe this. You're jealous!"

"Ha!" The man scoffs belligerently. "Kinda full of yourself; ain't ya?" He laughs rudely as he points unsteadily. "Heard you Navy punks were like that."

Harm shakes his head again, still not quite fathoming it. "No. You may hate me because she's gone, but deep down inside… When you're not lying to yourself about it; telling yourself that it's all my fault… You worry that you're just as much to blame. Anger aside, at this moment, more than anything else, you're jealous! Maybe because I gave her some things you didn't. Maybe because I tried my best to make her happy when you couldn't… or wouldn't. Maybe just because she wanted to be with me. I don't know which, but you are. Go home Tom. Sober up. Be the man she wanted you to be. Be the man she needed you to be."

"Too late." Tom Johnson mutters; more to himself than to his audience. He mumbles to himself incoherently as he staggers his way across the parking lot absent-mindedly waving them away as if they are a nuisance he can no longer be bothered with.

Knowing that the fight has gone out of the man when he chooses to stumble away with alcohol induced ataxia, apparently headed back into the bar that he came from, Harm tries one more time; his jaw clenched in anger. "If it's too late to do it for her, then do it out of respect for her memory. You owe Mattie at least that much.

Not caring about his response, Harm slides in behind the wheel and closes his door just as Mac closes the passenger side door. Focused solely on getting away from this place, Harm starts the car and heads for the road. While he waits for a break in traffic, Mac watches out the passenger window. Craning her neck at an awkward angle to look back; her own attention still focused on the man who just assaulted her husband. Just as Harm eases off the brake and taps the gas, she opens the passenger door and steps out when the car begins to move. He hits the brakes. "Mac! Are you crazy?" He reaches out for her but she's gone; sprinting across the parking lot.

Blocking the only entrance to the parking lot, he opens his own car door. "Mac! What are you doing? Come back here! Let him go!"

The only one to notice, until this moment, that Johnson wasn't headed back into the bar but across the parking lot to a waiting vehicle, Mac breaks into a dead run. Praying she gets there in time, she calls over her shoulder, "I can't. Harm, I can't. He's drunk."

The angry scowl that mars Harm's face quickly shifts; becoming a look of mild panic and outright dread. Picking up the thread of her thoughts, he grips the steering wheel in anger. He doesn't want to do this. He doesn't want to care… But he has no choice. "Damn it!" He swears under his breath as he puts the car in reverse. He backs up slowly, clearing the parking lot's entryway without bothering to close his door.

"Tom stop!" Mac calls loudly as she runs.

He ignores her as walks toward a beat up Ford that is several decades old. He climbs in, swaying badly on drunken legs. He cranks the truck, and slams the door.

Just as the truck's wheels begin to turn, she steps up onto the narrow running board, reaches through the open window and around the steering wheel. With minimal difficulty, she snatches the keys from the ignition. "What are you; stupid?" She yells at the man with the busted nose.

Furious that she's taken his keys away, Tom opens the truck door with enough force to knock her backwards onto her six in the gravel.

In scarcely the time it takes for his wife to realize that she's on the ground again, Harm is out of the car and, jerking Tom Johnson out of his truck. With his left hand fisted around the man's collar, he slams him violently up against the side of the truck. With the sound of his heart pounding in his own ears, Harm furiously lands the first blow. Before he can land the second, she's up, standing behind him, touching his shoulder and whispering softly in his ear, "Harm… Stop… Please. Don't do this Harm." She pleads; sounding scared. "Let him go."

The sound of her words; his desire to comfort the fear he hears in her voice, and his rage, fueled by the image of Mattie's face in his head, do battle with one another. He doesn't want to scare Mac; he just wants to pound on the bastard who knocked his wife down. Trying to clear some space for his thoughts inside his own mind, he turns to look at her. The intensity of the love he sees in her dark eyes nearly knocks him over sideways. He takes ½ step backward, but doesn't let go of the rotten drunk.

Mac tenderly touches the side of his face that isn't rapidly bruising and quietly shakes her head.

Over Mac's shoulder, a few feet away, he sees his mother. She's out of the car. She's worried; scared and her eyes plead with him the same as Mac's do. Why is she out of the car? It's not safe.

Mac reclaims his attention. "Harm… Harm let him go. You owed him the first shot. He had that one coming. But anymore and this won't be a fair fight. Don't hurt him Harm."

Harm shakes his head as though trying to clear his mind. He starts to let go of the man, but then he glances down; catching sight of the gravel still imbedded in his wife's bloody knee. Tightening his grip again, he hisses with his voice full of venom. "You're bleeding."

She glances down at the same wound briefly before returning her sad eyes to his face. She nods. "Yes, I'm bleeding. It's not serious. It's not life threatening. It'll heal Harm. I'm not going anywhere. Let him go. Don't do this."

He grits his teeth and rage boils like acid in his gut. "Why do you care what happens to him. Why should you try to save him?"

His fury softens by a microscopic degree when a single tear slips from her eyelashes and slides down her cheek as she pleads. "He's not the one I'm trying to save Flyboy. Please don't give in. I know you want to. Maybe you even have a right to, but I'm asking you not to. Harm… What would Mattie say?"

A knot rises instantly in his throat. Stunned by her question, he looks at her as if she's just slapped him. "That's not fair Sarah." He declares hoarsely.

She nods honestly. "I know it's not. But you were just starting to heal. Don't let him pull you back down… Please. You're right, it isn't fair. But this is where we are Harm. We're about to have a baby… Maybe more than one. So, don't fall apart on me now Squid. She wouldn't want that either… And I need you."

Before he can respond, the door of Buddy's Roadhouse opens and Garrett, the seasoned bartender, steps out; baseball bat in hand. "Everything okay out here folks?"

Without taking her eyes from Harm's face, Mac answers calmly, "We're just fine. Nothin' to see out here."

"Do I need to call the boys in blue?"

Mac forces a hint of a smile into her voice. Still not taking her eyes off Harm, she answers again, "That won't be necessary, but we would be grateful if you would be so kind as to call Mr. Johnson a cab. He won't be driving himself home tonight." Reaching out, she dangles Tom's truck keys in the air, putting them on display until Trish steps forward and takes them from her.

Without needing to be told what to do, she walks the keys to the bartender. "We'll be leaving now. Please don't let him have these back. At least, not until he comes back sober."

The bartender with the friendly eyes smiles. "No problem Ma'am. If you folks are okay, I'll go call that cab now." He eyes them with gruff concern.

"Everything's under control." Trish says hoping she sounds more convincing than she feels. Walking back to the car once again, she clears her throat. "Son… Listen to your wife. Let the man go… We're leaving… now."

When Harm does choose to release Tom Johnson's collar, the man sags limply against the side of his truck for an instant before he collapses into a rumpled heap in the gravel parking lot.

Mac wraps an arm around Harm and hugs him close as she walks him around to the passenger side of their waiting rental car.

On her way back, Trish pauses just long enough to make eye contact with the man she's never met before tonight. Bleary eyed, bruised, and bleeding, he looks back up at her with nothing to say. "You should be ashamed of yourself. That sweet girl deserved every good thing this world has to offer. Go home, stand in front of the mirror and take a good hard long look at what you gave her."

Before sliding back into her former place in the car, Trish smiles at Mac and then at her son. She touches his bruised face carefully with only a feather-light caress too gentle even to make him wince. "It's not so bad. It's nothing that won't heal. We'll go back to the hotel, put some ice on it, pick the gravel out of Mac's knee…" She tilts her head sideways and, with a tender touch, she inspects the wound on the back of Mac's arm as well. "And her elbow too. We'll order some dinner from room service, and while we wait for it, we'll call Laura and tell her that we have pictures of the baby. She can officially get excited."


	92. Chapter 92: Patching Up

**Chapter 92: Patching Up**

Hotel Monaco Washington DC

22:04 Hours

With her hair pulled over one shoulder, Mac stands in the shower partially clad in white satin bra and panties and a short half-slip with a lace fringed slit up her right thigh. With the handheld shower head in one hand she uses a gentle spray of warm water to irrigate the wound on her knee while gently palpitating her injured flesh to remove debris from the lacerations. When a soft, barely audible, knock is heard at the bathroom door she glances that way with an expression somewhere between a smile and a grimace. "Come in Trish."

The older woman opens the door just wide enough to slip through and quietly closes it behind herself. "You want some help with that? She takes in the sight of the wound, pieces of gravel on the shower floor, and flowing water; still pink with faint traces of blood with mild concern.

"I can manage this one. I'll need some help with the one under my elbow and the one under my right shoulder blade as well. Although I can reach it, the one under my elbow is difficult to see. As for the one on my back, if you're okay with lending a hand, I'd rather not ask Harm for help. Tending to my wounds won't do anything to improve his mood. Where is he anyway?"

"I agree Darling, and he's on the phone with Laura."

"Already?"

"Yes, well, I knew he wouldn't tell her what happened tonight, but I figured the sound of her voice might reign him in a little more. It might help keep him grounded. So, I gave him some ice for his face and then I dialed. Although I knew he was capable, I've never seen him quite this bad before. Yet somehow, something tells me a stern motherly lecture isn't the way to go at the moment. I couldn't do it anyway, as least not without feeling like a hypocrite. A very big part of me wanted to punch the guy in the face myself. Impressive, by the way. I don't think I've actually seen a woman break a man's nose before."

Mac shrugs. "It's not hard to do, and if you'll forgive me for saying so, you're right. That's not what he needs right now. He only did what he did tonight because Tom hurt me. Sure, he was mad before that, but he was in control of it. Woulda stayed that way too… If Tom hadn't knocked me around. Harm's hurting right now, but he'll be alright. I'm just glad I could talk him down before he managed to do something he'd never forgive himself for. A conversation with Laura was a good idea. It might briefly get his mind off of tonight… Or, she will remind him of all the reasons why he shouldn't do things like that in her own sweet gentle way."

"Looks to me like you can hold your own without Harm running interference."

"Oh, I can. Harm knows that too. He hit Tom tonight for the same reason I did." She smiles as she shuts off the shower and helps herself to one of the dry wash cloths on the bathroom vanity before hopping up to perch on the counter near Trish and gently blotting the wound dry. Harm's perfectly capable of defending himself too. But that's not how we work. Nobody picks on me and gets away with it in his presence. Nobody picks on him in mine. That's just how it is. I feel bad for Tom. I understand his drinking and I would've driven him home or almost anywhere else he wanted to go tonight, had he let me." She pauses, frowning slightly as she applies a large square of gauze from a nearby first aid kit to the sensitive lacerated flesh of her knee. As she continues, Trish quietly helps secure the bandage with white medical tape. "He's suffered a loss no one should ever suffer; one he's not likely to ever fully recover from, if at all. That does not mean he gets to use my husband's face for a punching bag. My empathy doesn't extend that far… And it never will." Mac shrugs in a 'so there' fashion that reminds Trish of Laura. "First case we ever worked together, one of Uncle Matt's misguided followers might well have killed Harm if I hadn't been there to stop it. He repaid the favor in very short order. Since then, watching each other's sixes… Well, it's just a habit neither one of us knows how to, or has any desire to break."

Finished with her knee, Trish dabs a warm damp cloth against the wound below her elbow. Trying to be as gentle as possible, she nods her head without taking her eyes from work. "He's told me more than once how you always seem to be there when he needs you. I've always been grateful, I just never really understood how grateful until tonight. Something tells me that no one else could have talked him down… Not tonight."

Mac winces in response to the pain her tender ministrations inflict but does not complain. "Trish, there have been times when even if I can't talk him down… Although, thankfully not when he was determined to pound on someone. Usually, it's just when he's about to put himself in a whole lot of danger."

Trish glances upward, a question obviously on the tip of her tongue, but she stalls briefly when she catches sight of the look on Mac's face. "If what I'm doing hurts, why don't you say so?"

Mac shrugs again. "Not my first badly skinned elbow. It has to be cleaned. It's going to hurt until you stop touching it. Nothing you can do about that. No point complaining."

Trish chuckles softly as she holds Mac's elbow over the sink and pours hydrogen peroxide over the wound. "Harm sure would."

Mac giggles quietly as she wills herself to hold still. It's not so much that the liquid bubbles and stings, as it is that the stuff is cold "Yeah well, Harm can't help it Trish. He's only a squid."

As she works, Trish says, "I know it's cold. Thank you for not saying anything vile. Just out of idle curiosity Mac, when you can't talk him down and he's about to get himself in a lot of trouble, what exactly do you do then?"

"Go with him." She answers simply.

Understanding without being told that she's put herself in danger more than once just by doing so, Trish replies just as simply. "Thank you."

"Don't have to thank me for that Trish. No one else I'd rather be in trouble with."

* * *

**Author's note**: Up next, we'll be checking in with Laura. After that, Skates and the irreverently charming Commander Keeter. More in a little while. Both the muse and I need food… And coffee!


	93. Chapter 93: Baby Frankenstein?

**Chapter 93: Baby Frankenstein? I Don't Think So! **

**Author's Note**: Oh the joys of having Cerebral Palsy. I'm having one of those days Y'all. One of those days where everything is a fight and nothing comes naturally. From simple things like pushing the wheelchair, getting dressed, or even feeding the dog; to far more complex things like operating heavy machinery or figuring out why my computer does the weird things that it does. If this chapter isn't quite up to par, my apologies and I will fix it as soon as my mind and body learn to coexist peacefully again. Right now, my brain says, "Oh hey, she wants to go do this." In response, my body laughs maniacally. "Yeah well, you can tell her to go take a flying leap. 'Cause it ain't happening today!"

* * *

Hotel Monaco Washington DC

22:42 Hours east coast time-19:42 west coast time

From the comfort of his favorite living room chair Frank Burnett listens to his granddaughter chatter on happily with the person on the other end of the phone.

"Yeah Uncle Harm, 'course Grandpa picked me up at school." She giggles. "He wouldn't leave me there all weekend. We went to Grandpa's office today on the way home. That place is cool! But my walker does not like the escalators. I've never seen one before today. Whoever thought of stairs that move while you stand on them… That guy must've been really lazy. Did you know that Grandpa has a great big fish tank in his office? Japanese Koi. They have names; April, May, June, and Mr. Bubbles. Mr. Bubbles is the fat one." She giggles again; happily. "He let me sit at his desk. He has a model car; he says that it's a replica of one of the first Chryslers ever built. He says don't play with it, but maybe he can get another and we can build it together." His phone sure did ring a lot. Grandpa must be busy when he's at work. Some guy named Jarreck came by because he needed reports on quarters. I don't know what that means, but I don't like him. He kept calling Grandpa Old Man; like it was his name or something. I told him that wasn't very nice. I told him he's supposed to call my grandpa Mr. Burnett, or maybe even Mr. Frank, but not Old Man!. He looked at me funny like he didn't know what I was talking about, but that's OK, because Grandpa Frank says he's not very smart anyway."

Having been away from her for more than 24 hours, Harm expected the whirlwind update with rapid fire subject change. He knows her sponge of a mind has been soaking up intel to share; just waiting for them to call. He barely managed to say hello to the girl before she launched into her latest debrief. Still, he chuckles. "Laura, I hope you didn't offend Mr. Jarreck. Grandpa does have to work with the man."

Listening in, courtesy of his speakerphone, Frank laughs heartily. "Harm, he was there for copies of quarterly reports." He provides the slight clarification. "And… I don't care if she did offend him. I've wanted to tell that guy off for years. Propriety and public relations demand otherwise. She did what I can't do… And she's young enough to get away with it. She wasn't rude; very sweet actually. She just told him very plainly that he wasn't being nice… And that the only person allowed to call me Old Man is Grandma Trish. You should've seen the look on his face. The boy was speechless. He's been calling me Old Man for nearly 10 years; since he first started working for the company. It's about time someone put him in his place. I just don't think he expected the person doing it to be 30 years his junior."

Though neither of them can see it courtesy of the telephone, Harm shrugs. "As long as she wasn't any trouble…"

"No trouble at all. We weren't there long. Best 15 minutes I've ever spent in my office." He assures with a quiet chuckle.

"It's your turn Uncle Harm. Tell me everything."

"Everything huh, sweetheart?" Harm runs his hand over the back of his neck and shakes his head as he teases. "That might take a lifetime."

Laura smiles brightly and rolls her eyes. Even though Harm can't see this, he knows it's happening. He can hear it in her tone which she objects. "Uncle Harm! Just tell me the important part. Are we having a baby or not?"

"Laura we told you that much before we left."

Laura shakes her head comically. "I'd told you. I'm not getting excited until somebody shows me a picture."

"I know. I know. Tell Grandpa Frank to check his e-mail. You'll find a picture waiting for you there."

"Okay." She squeals excitedly. I'm going to get his tablet. I'll be back super fast."

Harm listens to the girl race away, the wheels of her small walker noisily turning against the floor and he knows by the telltale sound of dog toenails clicking against the floor at a rapid pace that Candy is trotting along beside her faithfully.

With a moment to themselves, Frank asks, "How did things look? What did the doctors say? Is everything alright? How are Bud and Harriet?"

Harm chuckles. "Careful Frank? You picking up Laura's rapid-fire communication style."

The sweet tempered man shrugs good-naturedly. "That doesn't even make the list of the worst things people have said about me Harm."

The doctor. seemed pleased. He says everything looks good with the baby. He found no cause for concern. Apparently, despite a noticeably absent lack of pregnancy symptoms, everything is normal. Bud and Harriett are well. In fact, her doctor said if she were any better it would be disgusting. No one could be happier than us… But I think the Roberts are a close second. Wait until you see the picture. We all stared in silent awe… More than a few tears were shed."

"What did your mother have to say? And where is my wife? Can I talk to her?"

"She quietly disappeared a few minutes ago. If I have to venture a guess, I'll say she's probably in the bathroom helping patch Mac up. We ran into Tom Johnson tonight; Mattie's birth father. He was drunk. Things got a bit ugly. But I don't want to talk about that with Laura underfoot. I'll let you talk to Mom when she and Mac come out of the bathroom. She can fill you in. But I suggest giving Laura something to distract her while you have that conversation."

Mildly concerned, but knowing that Harm is right and it's not best to ask for more information now, Frank nods. "If your mother is seeing to the first-aid herself, I take it that means no one was seriously injured?"

"No one but Tom. Mac and I have both seen worse."

"Here she comes." Frank says, signaling his granddaughter's imminent return.

Frank she never ceases to amaze me. How a kid with the one good leg can move as fast as she does…"

"I think it's sheer determination. Don't know where she got it, but I'm sure glad she has it."

She got it from her aunt. It makes Mac uncomfortable when I call her Mini-Mac, but that child is part devil dog."

Frank concurs, "Devil dog, pixie, artist, engineer; along with aspiring golfer, pilot, and maybe, just maybe a natural born CEO. I swear, Harm you should have seen her this afternoon. I just stopped by the office on a run because I left something out of my briefcase. Before I knew what was happening, she walked through the door, climbed right up in the chair behind my desk, and answered my ringing phone like it was something she does countless times a day. 'Grandpa Frank's office. How can I help you? Just a minute please. He's right here.' I wasn't planning on taking any calls, but I had to force myself to stop laughing before I could answer that one. I don't know who taught her phone etiquette, but… She's extraordinary!"

Having made her return, Laura eyes Grandpa Frank curiously as Harm answers through the speakerphone. "Mac's been working on it. The first week Laura was here every time the phone rang she would race to pick it up, and then answer with either 'Yeah' or 'What do you want?' Apparently, Casey's telephone etiquette leaves something to be desired and Laura had picked up on it. Mac was terrified some military bigwig was going to call the house one day and Laura was going to answer with, 'What's your story Rory?"

"Laura objects emphatically. "I've never answered the phone that way. I don't even know who Rory is. When she answers the phone, Mom says, "Speak now or forever hold your peace… I don't know piece of what… But that's what she says. But never mind Mom. Show me a baby." She eagerly removes the tablet from the basket on the front of her walker and plops it into her grandfather's lap before climbing up in the chair beside him and settling herself in the narrow space between his hip and the armrest.

"Okay, let's see here…" Frank says as he accesses his e-mail. Seconds later, He scrolls through the list of emails yet to be replied to and finds one from the office of Dr. Peltier. "I think I found it…" He says selecting the option to download a photograph.

When several seconds go by in silence, Harm says nothing. He can remember well how quiet he And Mac were upon first seeing the image. He can remember well how quiet they all were until Harriett demanded that someone say something. When several more seconds go by, he hears Frank quietly prompt, "Do you see it? I know it's a little fuzzy, but…"

"No Grandpa, I can see it. Laura giggles and then squeaks happily with noisy excitement. "Yes!" She exclaims as if she's just won a prize and pumps a small fist in the air… "He looks like a squishy teddy bear with no ears. I'm so glad! When I told Liam about the science experiment he said my cousin was probably gonna look like a baby Frankenstein. I said, Na uh! Shut up, you don't know what you're talking about 'cuz Frankenstein's ugly! My cousin will be cute! Miss Harriett makes pretty babies. Betcha Uncle Harm and Aunt Mac will too. So, now Liam has to buy me some French fries at lunch!" Grandpa! Make the picture come out of the printer. I'm gonna show him! Uncle Harm? He is gonna grow some ears before he's born… right?"

As Trish and Mac emerge from the hotel suite's bathroom, Harm's body begins to shake with the effort to contain bold laughter. "Well, I certainly hope so sweetheart."


	94. Chapter 94: Things Laura Already Knows

**Chapter 94: Things Laura Already Knows**

* * *

Hotel Monaco Washington DC

22:50 Hours east coast time- 19:50 west coast time

Harm puts his hand over the mouthpiece and repeats for his wife's and his mother's benefit, "Uncle Harm? He is gonna grow some ears before he's born… right?"

Chuckling quietly, Mac gently helps herself to the phone; eager to talk to her niece. "Hi baby, yes, your cousin will have visible ears by the time we do the second ultrasound. That won't be for some time yet. It'll be a lot closer to the baby's birthday. But, the inner ear is already starting to form. You just can't see ears in the picture yet. The baby will be able to hear sounds sometime in the second trimester.

"Hi Aunt Mac! What's a trimester? Speak English; please."

"Sorry kiddo. All pregnancies are split up into three time periods. The second trimester is from the beginning of the fourth month until the end of the sixth month. It's the middle part. Early in the middle part your cousin will start hearing sounds even though the outside of the baby's ears, the part you will see, will still be forming. The parts you can't see, the parts inside his little head, those are already forming. They just aren't ready to work yet. Baby can't hear anything right now."

"But he will… Right?"

"Most likely yes."

"What do you mean, most likely?"

"Sometimes…" Mac selects her words carefully. "Some babies are just born different. Some of them have ears that don't hear, or eyes that don't see."

"Or legs that don't work right?"

"Yes, that's right Laura."

"it's not so bad having a messed up leg. I know how to do that. It's okay. Even if Mom did mess me up with her stupid pills."

"Whoa, who told you that?" Mac inquires; her tone drawing looks of concern from both Harm and Trish who are unable to hear Laura's the end of the conversation.

"Aunt Mac, my ears work fine. I can hear people talk."

"What people?"

"I don't know. Just people. Anyway, a messed up leg is better than messed up ears. Not hearing music; that would suck! I like it when Chloe sings. I like it when Grandma laughs and when Uncle Harm calls me sweetheart. If a baby has a part that doesn't work right, is it always because somebody took pills?"

"No Laura. Sometimes people do everything right and a baby is born differently anyway. You're not missed up. You're just Laura. This baby will be whoever he or she is. The doctor. says everything looks good for right now. It will probably stay that way. Miss Harriet has had lots of experience with healthy babies being born. There's no reason to worry. I promise you, she will do the best she can for your cousin. That's why we picked her. We know we can trust both her and Skates too… If she has a baby."

"Okay, I wanna show Liam the picture. Can I take it to school on Monday and tell my class about the science experiment?"

"Oh Laura, I'm not sure about that. I think we're better clear that with your teacher first. I imagine there are some parents of second graders who might not be comfortable with their kids hearing about surrogacy at school."

"Aww, why not? You guys are just making a baby, that's all?"

Mac chuckles. "Yeah, I know Laura." The Marine pauses to smile at Harm and Trish as they eagerly listen to things on their end. "But it doesn't usually happen this way."

In a tone of voice that implies she's not stupid, Laura declares, "Aunt Mac! I knooooow that! Mom already told me about the other way. Yuck! That's supposed to be private, but I don't wanna talk to my class about that. Gross!"

Unable to keep from laughing, Mac pulls Harm close in a one armed embrace as she says, "Good! In about eight or nine years, then you start thinking that maybe that doesn't sound so gross, come find me; we'll need to have a talk. In the meantime, please do not discuss making babies with your classmates in any manner until I've had a chance to talk with your teacher. I don't want a bunch of angry parents calling me; asking me what we're teaching you. If you want to show the picture to Liam, he can see it the next time he visits our house. Do not take it to school."

"Aww, well okay. Grandpa Frank says he wants to talk to Grandma Trish before we go have dinner. When are you coming home? Still on Sunday; right?"

"Yes, we will be home on Sunday afternoon. We're having dinner and Bud and Harriet's house tomorrow night, and then Sunday we'll be coming home."

"I wish it was now. I miss you guys even if me and Grandpa are having fun."

"I know baby. We miss you too. You'll be alright. Don't wear Grandpa out having too much fun. Skates and Keeter are coming to see you on Sunday while we're flying home."

"Keeter is coming over?" She asks with sweet enthusiasm. "Good! Can I show him the baby picture?"

Mac chuckles. "Sure why not. Just promise me you'll cover your ears and not listen to whatever outrageous thing he says when you do."

Laura giggles happily. "I love Keeter; even when he makes me mad Aunt Mac. But I don't listen to him. At least not when he's being crazy."

Mac nods doubtfully as her audience looks on. "Are you sure you can tell the difference between when he's serious and when he's being crazy?"

"Yeah, I can." Laura says confidently. When he's being silly, he smiles real big and his eyes get all full of sparkles He's just a big goof."

"Alright then. Don't listen to him when he's being a big goof. But… Listen to him the rest of the time, okay. He's a pretty good guy."

"Duh Aunt Mac. Uncle Harm wouldn't like him if he was bad… Not really bad."

Mac nods preparing to tell Harm about Laura's end of the conversation. "Put Grandpa Frank on the phone; here's Grandma Trish."

* * *

**Author's Note**: I'm taking the poll; what's next? Dinner with the Roberts? Or do we move on from here? Get your vote in before the next time I sit down to write.


	95. Chapter 95: San Diego Bound

**Chapter 95: San Diego Bound**

**Author's Note**: It always tickles me when people say Laura cracks them up because, essentially, she is my brain child and a good many of the people who know me would readily tell you that they think I am sorely lacking in the sense of humor department. I don't like stupid humor. If you can't make me laugh without insulting my intelligence; you are not funny! I can't stand Jim Carrey or anyone else on his comedic level. Here in the Southern United States Larry the Cable Guy and the other three hooligans he used to perform with are still considered popular by a large number of people. I am not one of them. Although Walter, Jose jalapeno, and Peanut do occasionally make me smile; even Jeff Dunham, gets on my nerves because he routinely pokes fun at certain groups of people. I do not often enjoy humor that stereotypes or pigeonholes any race or culture. Additionally, I do not enjoy gross humor or immature jokes about bodily functions. Any joke in which a person gets hurt or injured is also not funny! I hate that stupid TV show, America's Funniest Videos for this reason. It seems like the videos to get the most attention are the ones involving people getting hurt. Not funny!

A friend recently discovered that the man she was seeing was seeing someone else. She realized this when it became clear he had purchased two identical items of jewelry. At first, she thought he had simply been double charged. When she realized he had bought the exact same piece of jewelry for two different women, aside from being lied too and cheated on, she actually found it funny for some reason that he was buying in bulk. She stood in my living room and laughed like a loon while she was telling me about this. I sat there looking at her like she was insane. It was not funny, it was insulting! And the worst part of all was that she couldn't see that. I feel bad for her.

People who know me; people who actually see me on a daily basis would probably tell you that I'm the least funny person they know.

I like dry witty humor. Tommy Lee Jones cracks me up. I'm going to misquote this, but there was a line in either, the movie, Fugitive or its spinoff titled, U.S. Marshals where he was talking to his team about a criminal they were investigating and he said something along the lines of, "Find out if he goes to work, goes to church, goes to the gym, lies to his wife, pays his bills, has a dog, or cheats the IRS. If this guy has a hangnail, I wanna know about it!" and he says it all rapid-fire style without so much as cracking a smile. To me, that's funny! Go to Youtube, listen to Bill Cosby doing his stand a bit about Noah building the ark and talking to God while doing it. Now that man is funny; and he manages to accomplish it without acting stupid, making fun of anybody, being gross, or uttering a single vulgar word.

So, my point is, I'm so glad that many of you find humor and something to smile about in my writing. It pleases me. Because, seriously, people do not think I'm funny!

Next, I got a pretty well-mixed bag of responses regarding dinner with the Roberts. So, I compromised.

In other news, I have a niece, age 15, who decided last year to become a pescatarian.

I know… I had to look the word up. Once I did, I made a discovery. A pescatarian is a vegetarian who will eat seafood and fish, but not other meats. Given that I once heard Mac describe Harm as an 'almost vegetarian', I think this is probably where he fits best. As I recall, she once showed up at his door with a Beltway Burger for herself and a salad that consisted of shrimp and arugula for him. As you'll see in this chapter, he has good friends who do try to keep this in mind when he visits.

* * *

Dulles international Airport

Sunday, March 30, 2008

10:19 Hours

Harm, Mac and Trish walk through the airport with friends in tow. Bud Roberts carries his napping son, Nicky. Harriet holds a hand of each of her two oldest children, and sweet Jenny is propped happily on her favorite Marine's hip.

"Are you sure you don't want us to wait with you?" Harriet offers willingly.

Harm shakes his head and Mac answers, "Not necessary. We're glad you wanted to see us off, but you didn't have to come all the way to the airport. Our plane leaves in less than half an hour. Get out of here. Go home, put your feet up and be comfortable. The boys will be bored waiting here."

As Mac steps closer to her blonde friend, Harriett places Jimmy's hand in A.J.'s and the two boys grimace. "I don't care if you don't like it. Hold your brother's hand… And if either one of you wanders off it'll be no Game Boy for three weeks. Hold hands, and stay close… Close means… where I can see you."

Mac smiles quietly in response to her 'I mean business' tone of voice as she attempts to hand over Jenny. "Mom's right. Don't wander off in here guys. The airport is not a good place for little boys to get lost."

"Jenny, who does not want to be separated from her aunt, and A.J. both protest at the same time. Jenny shakes her head adamantly while A.J. complains verbally, "Aww Aunt Mac, we're not little!"

Harriet's takes the squirming, uncooperative toddler into her arms as Mac apologetically corrects herself. "The airport is not a good place for big boys to get lost."

"No!" Jenny protests in a loud unhappy voice.

Mac hugs Harriett tightly and kisses the top of the girl's head. "It's okay Jenny. You'll see me again before you know it. Promise." Despite the absence of a noticeable baby bump, and without asking, Mac gently touches Harriet's belly with longing. To the baby that can't yet to hear her, she says, "You be good in there." To Jenny, she says, "I wish I could stay too, but I can't. I have to go home. Laura needs us." On an afterthought, she offers apologetically to Harriett, "Sorry, I just remembered how you told me that you hate having people do that."

Smiling brightly, Harriett waves the apology aside. "What I said was, I hate having complete strangers walk up to me in public and rub my belly without asking like I'm some sort of good luck Buddha. You're not a stranger. And… This one belongs to you! I'd be more uncomfortable if you didn't want to touch me. Therefore, I think allowances can, and should, be made."

Laughing, and hugging her again, Mac breathes a dramatic sigh of relief. "Thank God!"

Harriet squeaks happily when she finds herself caught in the middle of a three-way hug that not only involves herself and Mac but Trish as well.

"Darling, I remember well how I hated having strangers do that to me. The Easter before he was born…" She pauses to point at her son. "His father was off on a carrier in the middle of some ocean. There I was just barely having gotten the hang of life as a military wife… Our car was running hot, so I pulled into a convenience store parking lot to put water in the radiator. This woman I didn't know from Eve approached and started chatting me up. With his arrival more than six months out, I was barely showing, but she would not keep her hands off of me. The first time, I backed away politely. The second time too. The third time I very kindly asked her not to do that. The fourth time she did it, I told her if she touched me again, she was going to draw back a bloody stump where her hand used to be!" Trish chuckles quietly at the memory of the mortified look on the woman's face. I'm sure she thought I was insane… But it worked. I promise I won't rub your belly… Yet, but call me if you need anything. If I can be of any help that all…"

Harriet eagerly returns her hug. "You've done an awful lot already. You, Harm and Mac didn't have to spend the better part of yesterday helping Bud and I clean our house, but you did. Now both the house and the garage are spotless, thanks to the three of you. I can go home tonight and do absolutely nothing." The happy woman giggles; not quite sure what she'll do with her free evening.

Trish looks around at four blonde children and smiles. "Something tells me your house won't be clean for long. Since you won't let Mac or I contribute to paying for a housekeeper, at least enjoy it while it lasts."

"It'll last a day or two longer than you think it will. I swear, Merry Maids has got nothing on you three. Swoop in, deep clean my house, top to bottom, in a fraction of the time they would have needed, and the only thing it cost me was a platter full of vegetarian tacos."

Jimmy scowls, "I still can't believe you fed me tacos with no meat in them. Mom, that was not cool!"

The adults chuckle as Harriet declares "Oh hush up, you! You polished off two tacos before you even realized that you were eating vegetables."

Harm smiles at the boy. "it wasn't that bad; was it? Aunt Mac ate five of them… And she will really likes her meat!"

Jimmy makes a face of utter disgust. "The rest was okay… It tasted pretty good… But the squash. Mom knows I hate squash. She tricked me. She put taco stuff on it so it didn't taste like squash. That's no fair! I wouldn'ta eat it if I knew."

"Aww, give your mom a break okay pal? She's just trying to make sure you grow up big and strong."

"Uncle Harm, that's why I eat peas and carrots but squash is extra gross!

As they approach their departure gate, Harm removes the cell phone that is clipped at his hip and quietly drops it into a pocket of his wife's large leather shoulder bag. Security personnel at the gate watches the group and as they step near and a short stocky man falls into the flow of traffic behind them.

Bud smiles. "I guess this is where we leave you." He warmly hugs each of his departing female guests in turn and pats Harm on the back as the taller man hugs Harriett and drops a light kiss on her cheek. "Thanks for your help with the garage Harm, Harriet's been after me for three months to clean it out."

Harriet clears her throat and quietly holds up four fingers indicating that she's been nagging her husband for slightly longer than he thinks. As Mac attempts to pass the gate the tall heavyset security guard catches Harm's eye and politely asks, "What was that you dropped in her bag, Sir?"

"Just my cell phone." Harm answers easily.

The security guard turns his attention to Mac and the open bottle of Coca-Cola she's carrying. "Show me please… and I need you to take a drink of that and then dispose of it before proceeding further."

Without complaint, she takes her last drink from the half empty bottle and tosses it, and its remaining content, into the nearest trash bin. She opens her bag and allows the security guard to conduct his brief inspection before she will be allowed to precede any further. The short man directly in line behind Harm complains, not so discreetly, "Seriously, it's gotten to where I hate coming to the airport!" He eyes the security guard with hostility. "What? Don't tell me you think he looks like a terrorist! Why isn't anyone harassing that Iranian woman in that head towel over there with the two Muslim brats?"

Harm turns and gives the hostile man a hard and thorough look. "Sir, he's not harassing anyone. He's doing his job. He's keeping you, me, and everyone else who's about to board this plane safe. And I, for one, am grateful for the job he does. He can ask my wife and I anything he wants."

Angered by his ignorance, Mac adds, "And it's called a hijab, not a head towel. That woman over there with her two little kids isn't bothering anyone. She hasn't done anything to deserve your personal contempt. Not every Muslim is a terrorist. Just like not every white, middle-aged American man is a narrow minded, culturally uneducated jerk! Chances are, I'd be more likely to do you bodily harm than she would."

Not sure what to make of it, and more than a little nervous, the man takes two steps backwards; putting some distance between himself and the angry Marine in civilian clothing.

As the security guard quietly grants them passage Trish notices the slightest of smiles on his tired face.

Before they are out of sight and out of hearing range, the blonde toddler in mother's arms reaches out one last time. With tears on her little face she asks, "I go with you?"

Mac smiles sadly. "No sweetie. You stay here with Mom and Dad."

Jenny tries one more time. "Baby stays with Mom. I go with you."

Harriet jiggles the little girl in her arms affectionately, while Bud steps close and rubs the toddler's back, she says to her daughter, "Sorry Jenny. We're not running some kind of kiddie exchange program."

Harm smiles and waves to all of his godchildren. Speaking directly to Jenny, he says, "That's not a bad idea. Maybe if it's okay with Mom and Dad, while your brothers are at summer camp, you and Nicky could come and visit with us. I could come over and fly back to San Diego with you. Then, two weeks later, Aunt Mac could fly you home again and maybe visit with Mom for a little while?"

"No fair! A.J. and Jimmy call out in unison. "We should get to visit too!" A.J. declares. "Yeah, I wanna see Laura!" Jimmy adds.

Harm flashes his grin. "Well… Of course. You two can come visit after summer camp. We'll call you when it gets closer to time and work out the details."

The two older Roberts boys nod enthusiastically as Bud chuckles. "You guys don't have to do that." He says to Mac and Harm.

Waving one last time and blowing kisses, "Mac declares with a laugh, "You didn't have to let us borrow your wife's belly either, but you did. It's the least we can do… And anyway… They're our godchildren. We like spending time with them."

The security guard squints in mild confusion and then shakes his head, laughing when, as the traveling threesome disappears from his sight, young A.J. bellows "Tell Laura to call me. Tell her I know how to fix Felix, the skeleton's head so that it won't fall off anymore."

* * *

**Author's Note: **It's just after 01:00. I have to go get some sleep. I've already started writing the next chapter. This was just a better breaking place. Tune in tomorrow to see what Laura, Grandpa Frank, Skates, and Commander Keeter are up to.


	96. Chapter 96: Ellie & Jack

**Chapter 96: Ellie and Jack**

**Author's Note**: Lydia, you're welcome, and thank you for your kind and thoughtful reviews. You and I have already discussed this but, "Call people what they want to be called." I learned how to call little boys "big" boys half a lifetime ago. There's more than a seven-year age gap between myself and my brother. I was a teenager by the time he was Laura's. I spent a considerable amount of time looking after him, especially after my mother returned to the workforce sometime around my 16th birthday. He's hated being called a little boy. The minor inconvenience of adjusting my language to suit him was well worth the effort. Anything that meant a few less tantrums made life easier. As I'm sure many of us already know, history does love to repeat itself. My teenage nephew (my brother's son) could not stand to be called a little boy when he was just 2 ½ years old. On a regular basis he would, rather insistently, tell anyone, whether they cared to listen or not, that he was a big boy. Now, he's 14 and nearly 6 foot tall. If you want my opinion, both my nephew and his father are still just little boys in big boy's bodies but they're both exceptional human beings who have taught me a far more about life than I've ever taught them.

As to the bit about, "He's keeping you, me, and everyone else who's about to board this plane safe." I threw that into the last chapter for the bit of realism it provided. Like the guy in line behind Harm, people only get upset about these kinds of things when they don't think beyond themselves.

Given the fact that once I am on board an airplane, I am literally unable to leave my seat until the plane lands, I don't fly anywhere outside the U.S. I can usually get coast to coast on a nonstop flight in just under five hours. At about 6 hours my poor bladder begins to reach critical mass. Even if I could leave my seat, airplane lavatories are not exactly disability friendly. So, when flying, that's my time frame; less than 6 hours from liftoff to touchdown. In my capacity as a disability rights advocate and spokesperson (I really don't like the term motivational speaker, it's too touchy-feely for my tastes, but for those of you who may be scratching your heads, wondering what the heck is she talking about, that is what I do.) I do have occasion to fly now and again. It never fails that, since 9\11, there's always some self-absorbed clown in line behind me who wants to complain "What? You think the girl in the wheelchair looks like a terrorist?" I'm forever telling that clown, "They can take as long as they want to search me if it means nobody gets the chance to use the plane I'm about to board to kill thousands of people."

Y'all look out, because one day that might be just how catastrophe next strikes. I can't go through metal detectors because of my chair. At the airport, they will take the time to search me, no matter how uncomfortable it makes them… or me. But in other places like courthouse security checkpoints, I smile at them and they let me pass right through without so much as waving one of those wands over me. It has happened to me in both my state capitol and Washington, D.C. I'm telling you, that "she is innocent because she has a disability" mindset is going to cause somebody a very big problem one day. Some hateful soul is going to enter a major metropolitan courthouse, or other federal building, sitting in a wheelchair or using some other ambulatory device with a bomb in their handbag or backpack, and no one's going to check, because she's just a sweet little girl with a disability. Now, I'm not the one who will be doing it, but just for awareness sake, the devil on my shoulder is always tempted to tell the fool at the airport in line behind me, "You never know. I might be a terrorist. Fortunately, my common sense always kicks in before the words come out of my mouth. Something tells me that were I to do it in a crowded airport, the experience that followed would not be a pleasant one.

And speaking of airplanes, consider yourselves forewarned, I'm actually typing this document. At this very moment, I'm 30,000 feet over… Kansas I think. I'm on my way to some little town in Idaho for a book signing. Ain't technology grand? I composed at least five chapters of _Crossing the Ocean_ sitting in the passenger seat of my husband's rig on the road somewhere between Texas and Florida, and this chapter comes to you courtesy of the friendly skies. Gives a whole new meaning to the word "airmail." However, voice recognition software doesn't work so well in a crowded setting… Too much ambient noise to filter out. Although, if it did work, it might be kind of interesting to have my fellow passengers… At least those in my immediate vicinity… Listen in while I go about creating the next chapter. That might get me a few really strange looks!

* * *

Sunday, March 30, 2008

Scripps Memorial Hospital La Jolla California

10:05 Hours

"Any news yet honey?"

Elizabeth Hawkes shakes her head; smiling patiently.

"It's only been 13 days. I did buy one of those rapid response pregnancy tests though. I'm just waiting… Actually, I don't know what I'm waiting for… I guess any sign that things aren't quite… Normal?" She shrugs; not really sure how else to phrase it. She looks around as if searching for something. "Where's Mom?"

Eleanor Dandridge shrugs dismissively. "Oh honey, I sent her away hours ago."

Skates raises an eyebrow as she carefully spreads her aunt's favorite, and recently washed, quilt over her hospital bed; tucking it around the frail, but high spirited, elderly lady while being mindful of IV tubes and thin skin that bruises easily she says, "Away where?"

"Just away. Don't rightly know where. Don't care either."

Smiling and rolling her eyes, Skates chastises lightly, "Aunt Ellie!"

Undeterred, the elderly woman with dark circles under her eyes shrugs. "She was yelling at the nurses because things weren't happening fast enough to suit her. I don't need her offending those women. They take care of me. If she makes them mad, one of them is likely to put potassium chloride in my IV… Or some equally dastardly thing!" She pauses to offer a tired but valiant smile; her blue eyes twinkling with mischief when Jack Keeter chuckles.

"Just because I'm circling the drain does not mean I want somebody giving me a shove. Anyway, those sweet ladies work twelve hour shifts. They're on their feet all day… or all night. They watch people bleed. They watch people puke. They watch people die… every day. They don't need Meredith in here wailing like a tormented banshee because my doctor comes in 10 minutes later than she likes."

"Well, at least now you'll be a bit warmer. This place is freezing!" Skates declares crossing her arms over her chest and rubbing her own biceps.

Without comment, Keeter, who is standing with his back to the wall, approaches, slips out of his leather jacket, and drapes it lightly over Elizabeth's bare shoulders. The loose-fitting cobalt blue blouse she's wearing with its straps that tie behind her neck may be flattering, but it does nothing to insulate her against the chill of this place

Although she says nothing about it, this quite act of chivalry does not go unnoticed by the woman in the hospital bed as she answers her grandniece, "Supposedly, they keep the temperature down because germs don't thrive in cold climates. They're trying to keep us all well. Meanwhile, they're killing us. Constantly being cold is playing evil games with my arthritis. I hurt all the time. Instead of turning the thermostat up, and they give me pain medicine that makes me sleep. Each time I wind up back here I feel worse. Doctors say the medicine meant to keep me from going into congestive heart failure is working. Well… Big whoop! I might live a few weeks longer. I'll just be miserable doing it. If getting someone to take me outside to sit in the sun for a while didn't nearly require an act of Congress, that might help. As it is, it's not worth the trouble, but thank you for washing my quilt honey." She pats Elizabeth's hand. "Before I wound up back in here again, I noticed it was starting to smell a bit musty. You must have had it laundered before bringing it to me."

As Skates nods and shrugs with quiet assurance "It was no trouble." Keeter questions, "Why is going outside such a big deal? Are you under orders to stay indoors?"

"I'm allowed a minimal amount of time outside, but first they have to send somebody in here with a wheelchair. For some reason it takes them forever to do it. Then, they have to send at least two people in here to pick me up and put me in the infernal thing."

Keeter speculatively eyes the dainty lady with her slightly unruly mass of chin length, curly, silver hair. "Two people? To pick up what? All 73 pounds of you?"

She smiles appreciatively at him. "Then, they say someone must be available to sit with me. What do they think I'm going to do? Hotwire an ambulance and make a break for it "

Keeter flashes his best grin. "You want to? I'll drive!"

When the old lady actually laughs, Skates gently hugs her shoulders. While doing so, she turns and smiles at Keeter, as she quietly mouths the words, "Thank you!"

Ellie shakes her head in response to his question. "I doubt they'd do anything to an old gal like me. However, I'm fairly certain they would throw your backside in jail, my boy."

Still grinning, Keeter shrugs, "My backside's been in worse places Ma'am."

She eyes him shrewdly for a long moment before saying dryly, "No doubt."

He eyes her just as shrewdly; taking in the sickly pallor that is taking over, pushing out what must've been a very deep tan at one time. It's not difficult for him to envision her outside, puttering around in some sun drenched garden filled with glorious flowers that she probably talked sweetly to on healthier days. Making a decision, he asks, "Do you want to go outside right now?" When she glances out the window longingly, he doesn't need more of a reply. "Elizabeth, find her a robe. I'll be right back!"

Both women watch with curiosity as Keeter leaves the room at a trot. When he is no longer in sight they turn to face each other. With the same silent question in both their eyes, they each smile and shrug.

Down the corridor, folded up, in a corner near the nurses' station, Keeter finds what he's looking for; an unoccupied wheelchair with an IV pole attached to it. With no trouble at all, he unfolds the contraption, flashes his grin at a curious young nurse with an elfin face framed by fiery red curls. As he steps quickly away, she queries, "Hey handsome! Where are you taking my chair?"

"Down the hall." He answers, stating only the obvious.

By the time that the petite nurse with the much shorter stride catches up to him, Keeter is already back in the room. He parks the chair beside the bed and bows slightly; putting on a show., "Your chariot awaits." He stands patiently by while she finishes tying the terrycloth sash of her robe and then, he scoops the old woman up with ease and settles her lightly in the chair. Making equally quick work of it, he carefully moves the pouches of intravenous medicine from her bedside IV pole to the one on the chair before the nurse can offer either complaint or assistance. Next, he grabs the quilt from the bed and tucks it around her slender body tightly; making certain that no part of the obviously hand sewn quilt will tangle in the chair's wheels and become damaged.

Rising back to his full height, he winks. "Done. No fuss no muss! Come on lady. What do you say you and me blow this joint for a while? Go find some sunshine?"

When she nods eagerly, he steps around behind the chair with enthusiasm. "Please keep all hands and feet inside vehicle while vehicle is in motion." He announces playfully. When the navy pilot he arrived here with lingers long enough to pick up her shoulder bag, he teases, "Come on gorgeous! We're burning daylight. As they leave the room at a lively, but relatively safe, pace he calls over his shoulder, directing his final comment to the slightly befuddled nurse. "Don't wait up… We'll come back… Eventually!"

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**Author's Note**: More tomorrow… Or maybe the next day if I run short on time. Jack will be visiting with Laura next. But for right now, it'll soon be time for me to get off this bird. So, regrettably, I must come to a stop. Goodnight y'all!


	97. Chapter 97: Jack & Laura

**Chapter 97: Jack &amp; Laura**

**Author's Note**: Thank God for pilots with charisma! What? Is there such a thing as charm school for pilots? Granted, I haven't met that many, but thanks to my furry sidekick, I've met a pilot on every flight I've taken in the last eight years, and I've yet to meet one I didn't like. At some point during the course of every flight, I have looked up from various pastimes to find a pilot smiling at me; some hesitantly while most are more eager, but the conversation always starts the same way. "Can I ask you a question about the dog?" I've gotten to the point that I don't even wait for the question anymore. I just smile and answer, "Her name is Candy. She's a licensed service dog. Yes, she has a legal right to be on board. She does quite a few handy little tricks. It may take some coaxing, but she might even demonstrate a few for you if you sweet talk her into it." There's usually a moment of mild confusion that follows while they sort out everything I've just said in their minds. Usually something along the lines of, "You have to sweet talk her into doing her job?" is the next question. The answer is "No, at least not ordinarily, but flying makes her a tiny bit nervous. Just to take the edge off, and make sure we don't have any unpleasant behavior issues in flight she gets a tiny bit of doggie Dramamine. Not enough to knock her out, but it does make her a bit sluggish; slow to respond." Not one of them has ever failed to get her to perform. Maybe all pilots have mastered the fine art of sweet talk.

The first time we flew together, the pilot was polite and professional. However, I could also tell he was not happy when he learned he had a four legged passenger of the canine variety on board his flight. A few hours later, when we deplaned, he tracked us down and actually patted her head. "Come back and fly with me anytime sweetheart. The flight attendants tell me you behaved better than the kids on board." He actually gave her a set of gold wings that she now wears on a bandanna around her neck every time we fly. In the last eight years, I've had this conversation quite a few times. Today was the first time I've ever had a pilot approach and pull a dog biscuit out of his pocket. Candy may never need doggie Dramamine again. She'll happily go anywhere with anyone who offers her a good girl biscuit!

Yes, carramor, I am receiving your reviews. Thank you. Because you're signed in as a guest, I cannot respond privately. However, rest assured, I am receiving them and I'm pleased you're enjoying the story.

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Sunday, March 30, 2008

Burnett residence

14:20 HRS

Jack Keeter makes a dutiful attempt to put the living room to rights. The room isn't dirty. Things are just out of place. The lady of the house will soon be home… And what the hell… He's got nothing better to do just now. Laura's friend Liam had been invited over to play. When he and Skates had arrived a little less than an hour ago, they knocked and no one answered because no one heard them. They entered unannounced to find Frank Burnett here in this room with the two children. Amid noisy chatter and fits of giggling, the two kids were jumping around and climbing on him as if he were a living, breathing jungle gym.

When they left the hospital, her aunt was asleep. The drive over had been a quiet one as Skates silently fretted over the elderly lady's condition in his front passenger seat. Knowing there was nothing he could say, he held her hand and let her brood. Upon finding the children at play, her mood had brightened instantly.

She had smiled and whispered in a singsong voice, for Keeter's ears only. "Somebody's about to get hurt."

Mimicking her tone and being just a discreet Keeter had whispered back, "I think it's going to be the old man."

Nodding silently; she concurred with only a slight correction. "Don't call him old. Haven't you heard, 60 is the new 40."

Shaking his head, Keeter had chuckled. "According to that math, I get to be under 25 again."

With her hands on her hips, Skates had raised an eyebrow and groaned hilariously. "I'm not sure I would've liked you at all anywhere under 30, but 46 or 66, I think Frank has probably hit his limit for the day.

To remedy the situation, Keeter had simply stepped forward and peeled Laura off of Frank's left leg. As he had lifted the squealing little girl onto his shoulders, her playmate also shifted his attention from Frank to Keeter. When Liam joined in, attempting to climb up Keeter's right side so he could reach Laura, although Frank's blue eyes were bright with merriment, he quietly and happily retired to the comfort of his favorite chair; content to be replaced.

They giggled, laughed, played, screamed, and hopped about; climbing, jumping, and cavorting for more than half an hour until a very out of breath young lady had simply stopped and stood still as a stone in the center of the room. "You guys!" Laura had to call loudly more than once before they heard her. "It's time to stop now. I'm tired."

Without so much as a single complaint, Liam, a red headed boy with too many freckles to count, had simply stopped jumping about and joined her on his knees in front of the coffee table where she picked up an art pencil and begin to draw on a sketch pad waiting there.

Confused by the rather immediate cessation of rowdy play, Keeter had raised a curious eyebrow, though he was secretly glad for the reprieve. The two little house apes were heavier than they looked and he was just a tad wearier than he wanted to admit.

Catching sight of his puzzled expression, Frank had supplied an explanation. "When she says she's tired… We stop. She's not supposed to overdo it." He drops his voice to a more discreet level, and eyes the heated blush present in his granddaughter's cheeks. "Though I suspect it's already too late to avoid that. She's had enough for one day. It's just as well, it'll be time to take Liam home soon."

Twenty minutes later, Frank had packed up the boy's belongings and he, along with the two children, one dog, and Skates, had left the house with an assurance that they would return, minus Liam, within half an hour.

Picking up throw pillows and returning them to various sofas and chairs, Keeter turns, surprised when his ears catch the sound of Laura's furry assistant's quiet panting. Both the dog and girl approach slowly, as Laura tells him quietly, "You put that blue pillow in the wrong chair. It doesn't go over there. That one goes in Grandma's chair."

With a wide easy grin, he fixes the problem in short order. "Anything else, Ma'am?"

With an air of extreme seriousness, Laura surveys the room. She turns a slow circle. After several long seconds she smiles and nods with satisfaction. "No, everything else is right."

Noticing that she still looks a bit sluggish, he sits, resting his six easily against the arm of an old familiar wingback chair and spreads his arms wide in an inviting manner. Her smile doesn't have quite its usual brilliance, but she approaches willingly enough and carefully climbs up to perch on one of his knees. "I thought you were going with your friend, runt?"

Laura blows out a puff of air. "Grandpa said he might stop on the way back and get some ice cream. I'm too tired to go for a walk in the store, so I'm staying with you."

Keeter hopes he doesn't look as worried as he suddenly feels. "You're too tired for ice cream?"

Laura shakes her head emphatically. I'm too tired to go get ice cream. I'm not too tired to eat ice cream."

Keeter nods and breathes a sigh of relief. "Thank God! Don't scare me kid!"

Laura giggles quietly. "Yeah. If I'm ever too tired to eat ice cream… Take me to the hospital… Fast! 'Cause I'm dying!"

Nodding in agreement, he watches curiously as he lets her do what she wants with him and what she wants is to take both of his arms and wrap them snugly around her belly before she leans over and tries to untie a bright pink sneaker. Getting the drift, he holds tight with one arm and doesn't let her topple over headfirst to the floor. With the other, he reaches down and offers assistance. No sooner than the footwear is discarded; both shoes and one sock in a small heap between his feet, she begins tugging at the small brace on her left leg. Not that he's with her every day, but he's never seen her take the thing off voluntarily. On the contrary, he has seen her put up a fight to keep the brace on when her aunt thought it should come off. Mildly concerned, he queries, "Need help?"

"Na uh, I can do it."

"Okay. You do it. But how come?"

"'Cause my leg hurts. Too much walking. Too much playing. Friday we went to Grandpa's office. Yesterday we went to the museum and the park. Today, Liam came over to play. It was fun… Lots of fun… But I'm tired now… Stupid leg!" She frees herself from the brace and carefully props it against the side of the chair. He notices quietly that she's careful with it and doesn't toss it hastily into the pile at his feet. Which is where she does drop the one remaining pink and white striped knee sock once it too has been removed.

Not sure that he's ever really paid attention before, he notices for the first time that the leg aided by the brace has significantly less muscle tone and development. Its skin is also warm to the touch as if the leg is holding fever and its color is slightly splotchy pink almost as though she has a rash… Only, he realizes when he touches her thigh just above her knee with gentle fingers, that it's not a rash. There's no change in the skin itself; only in its coloring and temperature. "Does it always look like that?" He asks with uncertainty even Laura can pick up on.

"Uh uh, only when it's tired. Charlie says I do too much stuff sometimes and when I do, it gets more blood. Makes it look funny like that. He says it's okay. It's not gonna fall off or nothin' bad like that, but it sure does hurt sometimes. Especially when it cramps."

"Is it cramping now Laura?"

She shakes her head. "Na uh, but I think it's gonna. The hurt is getting worse."

When his spine stiffens, she turns and looks up at him with obvious concern. Silently, he berates himself. _"Don't panic idiot! Don't scare the kid."_ He forces a smile. "Okay. Tell me how to fix it. When it hurts, how do you make it stop?"

"First, take the brace off."

"Okay good. That's done. What's next?"

"Some aspirins and a bath."

_"Duh genius! Same thing everybody else does for sore muscles. Don't make it harder than it has to be._" He thinks silently. "Where do you suppose your grandmother keeps the aspirin?"

Laura gives him that look; the one that makes him feel stupid. "Maybe she keeps it… In the medicine cabinet."

"Right, because if I were aspirin that's where I'd be." He stands up quickly, deposits her in the seat of the chair and starts to leave the room at a trot, only to turn and come back twice as fast. "I think… Maybe you should probably come with me. He starts to pick her up, then stops. "Will it make it hurt worse if I pick you up?"

Laura wrinkles her nose and squints as she shakes her head. Won't make it feel better, but it won't hurt worst either."

He plucks her up in his arms again and moves as fast as he dares through the house with Laura's dog at his heels, up the stairs off the main foyer, down the upstairs hall, into the master bedroom and the bath beyond. He can't recall the last time he was in this particular room. He feels as though he's invading Trish and Frank's privacy and at any other time that might give him pause. Right now he doesn't care. Right now he has more important things to worry about. He sets Laura down on top of the polished marble vanity and says gruffly as he yanks open the medicine cabinet door. "Sit still. Don't fall off of there." While Candy watches his every move, he grabs the first bottle of aspirin he sees and pops the cap before he realizes that Laura is shaking her head quietly. "What? What does that mean? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Keeter, look at the bottle. That's big people aspirin." She shrugs and rolls her eyes. "I'm not a big people. I'm a little people." She reaches into the cabinet and hands him the small bottle with the pink label that is clearly marked children's chewable aspirin.

He fights with the safety cap briefly before dumping half the bottle's contents into the palm of one hand.

Laura gives him another funny look and then carefully selects only two aspirin for herself.

Figuring that the kid obviously knows more about this stuff than he does, he dumps the rest of the pills back into the bottle, leaves it on the vanity, and steps over to Trish's large the Jacuzzi tub to turn on the tap. As water begins to flow, he drops the rubber stopper into place and quickly searches a nearby cabinet for a fresh towel to place on the edge of the tub.

"Don't make it cold, but don't make it too hot either. Either one makes it hurt worst."

He doesn't know what too cold is. He also doesn't know what too hot is. Elizabeth likes her bath and shower so hot that it turns her skin bright pink. He guesses that's probably wrong, but the kid probably shouldn't shiver either. He decides to adjust the water to a temperature he finds comfortable. He tests it against his fingers and decides to let her do the same. When he turns to face her again, she is scowling and fiddling with the buckles on her overalls.

_"Oh good God!, Am I actually supposed to undress the kid?"_

Before he can say anything, or ask any questions, the straps over her shoulders are loose and she's pulling her shirt over her head. She has on an undershirt that has a nice neat row of little yellow baby ducks printed across the bottom hem.

"Oh thank you God!"

Before he can tell her that he's going to leave the room, she reaches for him and when he steps forward, she wraps a surprisingly strong little arm around his shoulders and pulls herself up into a somewhat wobbly standing position. Though it's obvious by the scowl on her face that bearing weight on the leg hurts, she says nothing. Except for a quiet little grunt, she makes no sound at all. She lets her overalls fall and tries her best to step free of them, by repeatedly stepping on the fabric. With a little help from him, she manages to maintain what little balance she has. However, when extricating herself from her own clothes proves to be difficult, he offers a tiny bit more help. Taking matters into his own hands, he picks her up, letting her legs dangle, and shakes her gently until the denim garment falls to the floor. He kicks it out of his path, carries her to the tub and lowers her carefully into the water; undergarments and all with her furry bodyguard right at his side. It would be different if she actually needed a bath for the sake of hygiene. If that were the case, she could wait for Skates, but he doesn't want the kid to be in pain for the next half hour. She gives him another funny look, but she shrugs, and much to his relief, doesn't complain. "Is the water okay?"

Laura nods mutely, so when the water in the tub is high enough, he turns it off and switches on the jets hoping the warmth and the gentle pressure will do something to sooth her. He backs up, puts the lid down on the toilet seat, but he doesn't quite sit before he's rising again. "You're not going to drown in there; are you?"

She actually laughs at him, but it's a hollow sound devoid of her usual vitality. It's laced with a heavy note of pain that makes his chest hurt. "Keeter, I'm seven; not one." She balls up a small fist and begins to pummel her own thigh with all the force she can probably manage. Below the water, he can see the limb go rigid in response to some unseen muscle spasm.

Moving once more to kneel beside the tub, he reaches in, down below the water, and stills her small hand with one of his own. "Hey, I'm not a doctor runt, but I'm pretty sure beating on it won't help. All that's going to do is leave you with some nasty looking bruises." Not caring about his wrist watch, or his wet shirtsleeves, he touches her leg; tentatively at first. On the outside, it's stiff as a board and rock hard, but inside, under the skin, he can feel her small underdeveloped muscles twitching violently; and completely beyond her control.

His big hands have never felt so uncoordinated and inept as he begins to gently massage flesh that is supposed to be tender and soft; not rigid an unyielding.

She wrinkles her nose; her dark eyes big, round, and full of torment, and she chews on the inside of her lower lip. "That's not gonna work. You have to rub it harder Keeter. You have to make it sort of hurt, or else it won't do any good. It'll just keep cramping. It doesn't like to let go by itself. You have to make it let go."

"I don't want to hurt you kid."

"You have to… At least a little bit. If you don't, it just gets worse. It'll be better if you do it; than if my leg does it. That's really bad."

He's hesitant until he catches his first glimpse of tears. Still not trusting his own strength, he says, "Okay, I'll do this, but if I hurt you too much punch me or something; okay kid? Preferably before your dog bites me."

The strangled sound she makes is pitiful, but she nods.

She lets him work for several minutes without speaking. Occasionally she flinches or groans, but if he eases up on the pressure he's applying, she shakes her head violently until he renews his efforts. She cries but doesn't wail or howl, or attempt in any way to make him stop.

Her muscles misfire their crazy, erratic, involuntary impulses beneath his touch_. _

_"Damn, this kid is made of titanium!"_

After a few more minutes, she whispers raggedly "Talk to me."

Uncertain what to say, he squints. "What you wanna talk about?"

She reaches out and fists of small wet hand in the front of his shirt. "Don't know. Don't care. Doesn't matter. Just talk. Aunt Mac does. Helps me not think about my leg. She just talks about stuff. Home stuff, work stuff, baby stuff… Just stuff."

Mention of the Marine brings a wide smile to his face. "She ever tell you that… me in her… we spent two days alone together in the desert once…

At first the only response Laura can manage is to either shake or nod her head in response to his occasional question. Twenty minutes later, when the spasms finally subside, she's relaxing, laying back in the tub instead of sitting up rigidly. She's also peppering him with a relentless litany of questions, "Keeter, what do you mean the plane was funny looking. What made it look funny? Well? Why did you do that? You didn't let anything bad happen to Aunt Mac? Did you ride a camel? I guess Uncle Harm didn't crash?" and the pilot has never been so happy to be interrogated.

By the time they hear familiar voices downstairs, he's wrapping a towel around the girl and lifting her from the tub as it drains. "We're up here!" She squeals happily.

With one arm around her belly, Keeter totes her from the bathroom, refusing to put her back on her feet even though she says it's okay now.

When Trish is the first one through her bedroom door, Laura reaches for her with enthusiasm and she happily takes the girl into her arms. Despite her disheveled and damp condition, Trish hugs and kisses her affectionately. "Darling, what are you two doing up here? Why are you wet?" she shoots Keeter a slightly suspicious look as Harm, Mac, Frank, and Skates all file into the room behind her.

"I had a really bad leg cramp. Don't worry Grandma, it's all gone now. Keeter fixed it. We kind of made a mess though."

With concern in her eyes, Mac steps forward and touches the girl's leg tenderly. She too shoots a look Keeter's way; one that is equal parts surprise and gratitude.

"Don't you worry about the mess darling. Messes can be cleaned up."

Laura looks around the room happily. "Everybody came home at once. Hey wait… Uncle Harm! What happened to your face? Who hit you?"

"Darling…" Trish reclaims her attention. "Never mind your uncle's face for just a minute. I promise you both he and his face are okay. We'll talk about that soon…"

Mac chimes in. "Right now Grandma Trish and I really want to know why you're in wet underclothes."

Laura shrugs comically. "Keeter put me in the bathtub this way.

When both women turn bizarre looks his way, he shrugs and flashes his grin. "Hey, I've got three rules to live by. Rule one; do what you commanding officer tells you to do, unless it's blatantly obvious that his cheese has slid permanently off its cracker and, crazy or not, if you don't do what he tells you to do, you better cover your six. Rule two; just fly the plane. It doesn't matter what else is going on. Long as you got air under the wings, you're OK. Rule three; unless I know with absolute certainty that she's over 18, I don't take a girl's underwear off!"


	98. Chapter 98: In Laura's Corner

**Chapter 98: In Laura's Corner**

**Author's Note: In** the famous words of old blue eyes, himself, "It's also nice to go traveling, but it's oh, so much nicer… yes, it's oh so much nicer to come home.

ChristinaJ- Based on your last review, I hope it's alright if I offer a friendly piece of advice. With any project, nine times out of ten my biggest problem is just starting. More specifically, I can't plan any of my writing. If I try, I think and think and think and think… and think some more, but beyond that nothing ever gets done. I thought about my very first fan fiction for three years before I ever started to write. Once I started, I swear, the story wrote itself. If I just start, the rest will usually follow on its own; and the end of the any chapter is usually as much a surprise to me as it is to my readers, so… My best advice…. If as you say, the heart is willing, but the mind is not cooperating, stop waiting for motivation to come find you. Go find it. How? As Sean Stephenson likes to say, "Put your butt for your heart wants to be! In other words, sit down at the computer, stare at the scary blank page, and just start typing. Sometimes we have to jump off the cliff and build our wings on the way down. Usually, once we leap, we find ourselves with more than enough motivation to complete the task.

Lydia- I know! I feel like I have met them. They're in my house daily, and yet somehow been I've deprived of them all at the same time. I don't know what DPB did to tick off DJE so badly but I've heard he won't even consider doing a reunion show. My rather limited experience with television writers seems to suggest that they're all a little too full of themselves. You would think they would understand basic math. If you piss off all the actors, you have no actors, if you piss off the guy who carries the show, you have no show. If you have no show, you'll make no more money. Solution? Pay attention to your audience, pay attention to your actors, do the best you can to give both parties what they want. (I realize total satisfaction is not possible.) The show runs long, you make serious money and, when it does end, people leave happy and reunions are possible. However, since they don't seem to understand this basic principle, even if there was a reunion, I have a feeling they'd just screw it up. I suppose that's why fan fiction exists. Thank heaven it does!

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Sunday, March 30, 2008

Burnett Residence

When the bathroom is clean, and order has been restored, Trish and Mac join the others downstairs in the kitchen. They find Laura clad in an orange and green dress complete with equally bright socks and sneakers sitting at the kitchen table with half her attention on a bowl of chocolate and vanilla ice cream while the other half of her attention is on her uncle's face. She plays with her spoon with one hand while the other reaches out and, with gentle fingers, she softly touches his bruised flesh.

Laura winces with empathy in response to her own tender touch while Harm takes her small hand in his much larger one and squeezes gently. "I'm okay sweetheart. Stop worrying."

More upset over his bruised face than she is about her own recent trauma, she shrugs. "Can't help it Uncle Harm. That looks like it hurts."

"It looks worse than it feels. I promise."

She nods her acceptance, but still looks more than a bit doubtful. "Who hit you?"

He tries his smile. "Who said anybody hit me?"

She shakes her head with a woeful expression. "Uh uh, Uncle Harm." She declares with Trish, Mac, Frank and Skates all listening in. "I know what it looks like when somebody gets hit." She briefly passes a curious look to her aunt but she shakes her head and demands. "You and Aunt Mac don't do that… So, I wanna know who did do it!"

Knowing it's time, Harm takes a deep breath and decides to get it over with. "While we were visiting with the Roberts, we bumped into Tom Johnson." In response to her look of uncertainty, he explains further, "He was Mattie's dad… Before she met me and I started trying to adopt her. He's not a happy man Laura. He's got lots of problems, and He's sad because she's not here anymore. I guess he blames me."

Laura mulls this over, squinting thoughtfully. "Why? Was it your fault?" She asks innocently, still playing with her spoon.

Harm shrugs, thinks it over for a silent moment, and then sadly shakes his own head. "I used to think so because I gave her money to take flying lessons, and her plane crashed. I wasn't responsible for the crash. Mr. Johnson hasn't figured that out yet though… And I guess blaming me is easier than blaming himself… But it wasn't his fault either Laura. It wasn't anybody's fault. He just doesn't know that yet."

Laura's worried eyes shine with a tender light. "Mattie liked to fly too?"

Harm reaches out and lifts the girl from her own chair. Settling her in his lap, he hugs her tightly with one arm and kisses the top of her head as he moves her bowl of ice cream; repositioning it for easy access. "She loved to fly sweetheart. It made her happy. It set her free."

Turning sideways in his lap, she looks up at him curiously. "Free from what?

Harm tilts his head side to side. "Maybe from all the things that made her sad."

"Like her dad?" She queries with big dark eyes.

Mildly surprised, but not really shocked by her intuition, he asks quietly, "How do you know that?"

She lifts one shoulder in a shrug as she helps herself to a bite of ice cream; carefully scooping up equal parts chocolate and vanilla with her spoon. "You said he gots problems. Plus, he goes around punching people. I guess, if I knew my dad, it would make me sad if he did that… You fly because of your dad too. Aunt Mac says so. That's probably why you wanted to take care of Mattie so much."

He smiles quietly for a beat and hugs the girl again. "I didn't start flying to get away from my dad, sweetheart. I climbed into the cockpit to be closer to him."

Laura squints briefly, thinking this over and then shrugs again. "Doesn't matter Uncle Harm. Still the reason both of you fly. You both got Dad stuff. It's okay. Nothing wrong with having stuff. You just do; that's all."

Harm nods and pats the top of the girl's head affectionately. "Eat your ice cream before it melts… And stop worrying about my face. I'll live."

Helping herself to another bite, Laura shoots him a bizarre look. "My ice cream never melts… Except when I want it to." She looks around at all the adults in the room and suddenly realizes that someone is missing. "Hey… Where's Keeter?"

Not wishing to worry the girl any more than he already has, Harm hopes he sounds unconcerned when he says "Keeter went outside for a few minutes. He'll be back soon. Eat your ice cream." He points to the bowl.

Laura raises an eyebrow comically. "if you want some Uncle Harm, I'll share. "

"No thank you."

"You sure? You sure are worried about my ice cream. I won't waste it."

Mac and Trish both chuckle quietly, and although Frank does not make a sound, his blue eyes twinkle merrily. As Mac asks, "Yeah, what's wrong with you Flyboy? You know Laura doesn't waste food… And why is Keeter outside all by himself when we're all in here?"

Harm shrugs; well aware of the reason but still trying to avoid upsetting his niece. "He just needs a few minutes to himself."

In response to this, both Laura and Mac give their favorite aviator scrutinizing looks. For a long moment Mac says nothing. She just stands there; her gaze volleying back and forth between her husband and the French doors that lead out to the Burnett's back patio. She knows he's avoiding saying something for Laura's benefit. She just doesn't know what.

Laura watches as her aunt passes a look to each of the other adults in the room. When they all respond with quiet shrugs, or looks of uncertainty, Laura squints and sweetly demands, "What wrong with Keeter?"

"Nothing's wrong sweetheart. He just needs a few minutes. He'll be back."

Laura's spoon clings loudly against the side of her bowl as she drops it and begins to slide from her uncle's lap. "Okay fine. Don't tell me. I'll go ask him myself."

Moving quick, Mac steps forward, lifts the little girl off her feet, and puts her back in her own chair at the kitchen table. "You stay here. I'll go."

"Hey Mac…"

The Marine waves her husband's objection aside and steps out onto the patio, closing the door behind herself before he can complete his thought.

Only mildly irritated, he shakes his head and mutters quietly, more to himself than anyone else in the room, "You'd think I'd be used to it by now."

Laura raises an eyebrow. "Used to what Uncle Harm."

He chuckles and points to the back door, and Laura's aunt beyond it. "That woman does not listen to me. She never has."

Trish offers her son of smile of patient amusement. "I don't think that's true Harm."

Skates picks up the ball where Trish leaves off. "I'm pretty sure she listens to everything you say… She listens, she thinks about it, and then…"

Laura brings it home. "She decides you're wrong… And she does what she wants."

Quiet laughter rumbles deeply in Frank's chest as he says, in response to the baffled look on his stepson's face. "You may as well accept it, my boy. Your mother's been doing it to me for more than 30 years…"

"Ahem… Franklin Noah Burnett! I am standing right here!" Trish declares with a dish towel clenched in the hand that rests on her hip as she shoots him a look that is equal parts exasperation and affection.

Largely unconcerned, Frank smiles and fires back, "Did I lie?"

Laura giggles when her grandmother throws her dish towel at her grandfather's face and Trish groans in exasperation when he catches it midair and throws it back.

* * *

Outside, across the patio, on the other side of the pool, near the Burnett's barbecue pit, Mac finds Jack Keeter pacing in a slow tight circle; brooding like a powerful beast carefully considering its next strike against prey. Unable to see his face because his back is turned, she gently touches his shoulder and when he turns, the guilt and dark fury in his usually bright lively eyes is almost enough to make her take a step back. However, at the last possible instant, she stops herself from doing so and teeters, almost imperceptibly, on the balls of her feet. Confused by the unexpected emotion in his gaze, she squints momentarily and then, unsure what to say, she raises an eyebrow. "Jack…"

More than a bit shocked and wary, as if he expected something else, he says simply, "Sarah I'm sorry."

Confusion deepening; her squint becomes a heavily furrowed brow. She shakes her head with uncertainty. "What exactly are you sorry for?"

When Elizabeth and I got here, the kids, they were playing. Frank looked a bit weary, so I just took over. We were just goofing around; roughhousing I guess. I didn't mean for her to overdo it. I didn't mean for…

Catching the train of his thoughts, Mac shakes her head vehemently and waves her arms in front of her face as though she were an LSO. "Just stop! You stop right now Jack. This was not your fault! The problems with Laura's leg are not your fault. You get that thought out of your head right now!"

"You don't understand Mac. I was treating her just like any other kid."

"Good!" Mac states boldly.

"It was too much for her."

"Maybe. Probably so. But Laura has got to start taking some of the responsibility for letting us know when she's had enough. She's got to learn where her boundaries are Jack. She's got to learn to accept and respect those boundaries, and if she's ever going to rise above them, she also has to be allowed to push them from time to time."

He stares at her incredulously. "She's just a kid."

Mac nods patiently; familiar with this particular response. "Yes, she is. She's a kid; a kid with some significant limitations and those limitations are going to be with her for her entire life Jack. There's nothing anyone can do to change that. We can help her manage it, but we cannot change it. Harm and I usually know when she's had enough. We've told her, stop, slow down, take a break. She's stubborn. She fights us on it. It's one of the few things she will fight with us over. However, when she hurts herself, she never tries to blame anyone else. Most of the time, she knows what she's capable of. Jack, it's a decision that no one else can make for her. She has to be the one to decide who she is and what she is, or is not, capable of. So, good! Treat her the same way you treat any other kid; at least up until the point that she says stop. If you treat her like she's different; like she's fragile, it's going to piss her off. The fact that she has a disability is not what makes her special. Treat her like that is the thing that makes her special and you're going to piss both her and me off. If you put her in a bubble to protect her, you're going to break her heart. If you do that, I will kick your six!"

He gives her an uncomfortable version of his usually charming smile. "She did ask us to stop … And we did… as soon as she asked. I guess she just… waited too long."

Mac nods. "She does have a habit for doing that… Waiting too long. But, she is getting better about it. She's learning and Harm and I both make sure she stays surrounded by people who will step up when need be and keep her from doing serious damage to herself."

Suddenly tired, he drops into poolside chair. Flexing his neck side to side as if his head is suddenly 20 pounds heavier. "I had no clue what I was doing. All I knew was that she said her leg hurt and I wanted to make it stop."

Mac's quiet chuckle belies the seriousness of the conversation, "Well… You handled it like a pro. You were precisely the person she needed you to be… And I couldn't be more grateful. Thank you Jack. I am sorry about the trial by fire. The first time I had to do that, I was scared half out of my mind, and I had already had instructions on how to handle the situation given to me. Frank knows what to do, we made sure of it before leaving Laura with him, but he's never had to do it. I'm sure, had he thought about it, he would have left you with some kind of instruction. If he did think about it, it's likely he thought she'd be fine for half an hour. It's rare, but it can happen with no warning at all. Usually, it's because she's overtired. Just out of curiosity, how did you know what to do?"

"Laura told me. There was no one else here to listen to. I guess I figured, okay, so she's just a kid, but it is her leg. She walked me right through. It was kind of amazing watching someone her age, in that much pain, pulling me through to the other side. She knew it was coming. By the time the cramping started, I already had her in the tub."

Mac smiles serenely. "She is getting better. Better than I knew. She's never done that before Jack… Warn somebody before the cramp actually hit. Of course, she's usually asleep when they hit. It usually happens in the middle of night after a hard day… Or a day with too much fun. Good! If she's getting to where she can feel them coming on, maybe we're doing something right."

He eyes are with outright shock and incredulity. "What? You mean you don't know for sure whether or not you were doing something right or wrong?"

Laughter bubbles out of Mac. "Three years ago I didn't even know Laura existed. I sort of got thrown into the deep end of the pool unexpectedly. It was not too much different than what you experienced today. Though, I expect it happens to most of us that way."

"What does?"

She pats him on the shoulder. "Welcome to parenthood… Well, I'm sort of… Uncle Jack."

Keeter shakes his head and waves his hands. "Uh uh! Do not teach her that! I'm good with Keeter… Just Keeter… Got it?"

Her dark eyes laugh at him as she lifts one shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. "Okay. I'll bet you Laura's okay with that too. But face if Peter Pan, you'd been claimed!"

For one of those excruciatingly rare moments in life, he's actually somber. It takes several seconds, but at length, he flashes that grin and shrugs easily. "I suppose I could be claimed by far worse. Sarah, exactly what is wrong with the kid's leg?"

"My sister is an addict Jack. Laura was born with a positive tox screen. When able to do so, Casey is an alcoholic who pops a variety of pills like they're candy. Eight years ago, rumor has it, she was on Oxycodone. It messed up Laura's development. Mentally she's fine. Better than fine; she's one of the smartest kids in second grade. She's in advanced placement classes for reading, spelling, and science. Physically… She's delayed, stunted, smaller than everyone else her age. There is room for improvement, but it's likely, she'll always be behind other people her age; not quite as strong or fast. Her muscle development is poor. There will always be some deficit because her muscles never developed properly in the first place… And when I say in the first place… I mean in the womb. Therapy, exercise, patience, and lots and lots of good food. They all help, and she's finally getting them. Now, we just need to focus on making sure she keeps giving them. Harm and I want to adopt her. Keep her from going back to my sister. We're working on it."

"I know. I've heard. Who the hell willingly puts poison in their body, while pregnant?"

Sighing as though the thought alone makes her tired, Mac says simply, "An addict."

"Well… Don't know what I can do to help with the adoption, but if there's anything… Just call. I'm in Laura's corner. Your sister… She ought to be taken out and horse whipped."


	99. Chapter 99: A Month with Laura

**Chapter 99: A Month with Laura**

**Author's Note: **Oh My God! Amanda, thank you! Laura has a living, breathing doppelganger! Anyone interested should do a web search for Sadie McCallum and the Amazing Curb Climber.

Sponsored dot bostonglobe dot com/ greateststories/ big-ideas-come-in-small-packages/ (Sub periods for the word "dot" and remove all the spaces. That's the best I can do with the link here on this site.)

This story just blows my mind! I want to meet this young lady. I want to shake her hand. I need wheels like that on my chair! Angela, you have no idea how impeccable your timing is!

I'm going to get up on my soapbox for a minute, and although that is a word of warning, I would appreciate it greatly if you all would read very carefully. Thank you.

Okay… It never ceases to amaze me how many people either don't know this, or have simply never stopped to think about it. So, in the hopes of reaching just one person, I'm going to share this. If you have a license plate with a disability emblem on it, or one of those little blue placards that you hang on your rearview mirror in order to signify that you have the right to park in an accessible parking space, that does not mean you have the legal right to park on top of, or directly in front of the curb cut or wheelchair ramp next to the parking space. Park in the parking space, and only in the parking space. Those ramps and curb cuts exist for a reason. They are there so people like myself, wheelchair users, can gain entry to public places. When you park on top of or directly in front of these, you are denying someone like myself access. That 4 inch step up the curb may not be a problem for you. For me, and others like me, it may as well be the Great Wall of China!

I went grocery shopping yesterday. When I left the grocery store it was barely drizzling rain. I looked at my housekeeper and said "Let's go next-door to Burger King and wait for the rain to pass, I don't want to walk home in the rain. When I got to Burger King I could not enter the building because there was only one curb cut and someone was parked on top of it. My housekeeper went into the restaurant and asked them to figure out who the vehicle belonged to and have them move it. It took more than five minutes for this person to arrive, by the time she did arrive, on two feet with no ambulatory or assistive aid in sight, it was pouring down rain, and I was soaked! This woman then proceeded to stand in the rain and argue with me.

"I have a handicap card. I'm allowed to park there!"

"No Ma'am! You're not. You are allowed to park in the parking space designated for people with such cards, you're not allowed to park on top of the ramp. Because you did park there, I'm sitting out here in the pouring rain getting drenched, and the remote control that steers my chair is not supposed to get wet! If water gets into the circuitry it will stop running, I will be stuck where I sit if my chair stops working, and I will send you the $1200 bill to replace the waterlogged part!"

I usually carry a gallon size zip-loc bag folded up in my wallet; should I get caught out in rain unexpectedly. Unforeseen events led me to use the bag yesterday prior to the rain. Oddly enough, one of the employees had a hair dryer at work with her. She allowed me to use it in the lady's room so that I could partially disassemble my joystick and dry it out before permanent damage was done. Additionally, replacing a part like this does not happen quickly. When my chair breaks down, I am often housebound for months waiting for repairs. If you've ever faced an irate wheelchair user and been unable to understand why they were so very upset with you for parking on top of that curb cut… For just 5 minutes… That's usually what I hear. "Ma'am, you're being unreasonable, I was only in there for 5 minutes…." I'm sure they could tell you stories similar to this one. I have even encountered a police officer in uniform who parked his squad car on top of one of these curb cuts in front of a convenience store while he went in to get a cup of coffee! He gave me the same excuse; rather snidely. "I was only in there for 5 minutes." It was all I could do to refrain from suing the local police department. Ultimately, I didn't. It's not a good idea to make enemies out of those who protect and serve. You might need them at some point. I did, however, talk both the local police chief, and county sheriff into attending a two-day disability awareness training and advocacy seminar which I hosted and facilitated myself.

My friends, please be aware of this in the future. I cannot tell you how often I've been caught in the rain, or, even more often than that, I've not been able to get into my own home when I desperately needed to go to the bathroom because someone parked on top of, or otherwise blocked, the curb cut near my front door.

If you know me personally, please don't put me in the position of having to stand in the rain and call the police to have you towed or ticketed...because I will. It's one of the few things I will be ugly about. I will sit behind your vehicle and not allow you to leave the scene until the police arrive if you do this to me, or if I catch you doing it to anyone else… And… There is a fine that may exceed $200 for each offense.

Finally, before someone out there reading this sends me an ugly message telling me I'm being irrational, ask yourself, have you ever come home after a long day and literally not been able to enter your home, terribly afraid you are about to humiliate yourself in public, because you couldn't get to your own bathroom? Have you ever sat in the pouring rain soaked to the skin, worried about the loss of your mobility, and waited for some unwilling person to come move their vehicle only to have them argue with you belligerently about their misinformed belief in their rights? Please… If you're going to argue with me about your rights, make sure you know what they are first.

Above all else, I do realize this happens accidentally sometimes; my own family members have done it, and believe me they all know better. So, if you do this unintentionally, and you find that you have blocked someone's entry, please do have the courtesy to apologize to the person, rather than stand in the rain and argue with them like they have no right to be upset with you.

Both the rant and lesson are now concluded.

Laura's going to help me to move the story along at a faster pace with this next chapter. I'm not yet sure how it will turn out, if you don't like it, or if you want more detail, let me know. If it can be done, I will to fix it. Shall we get on with the story!

* * *

In the weeks following her aunt and uncle's return from DC Laura tries to take things a bit more slowly. She and Keeter had managed okay… Actually, they managed better than okay. She giggles quietly in her room while she recalls the events of that day. As she muses, she's also busy reattaching Felix the Skeleton's head for what she hopes will be the last time. Keeter sure doesn't know much about taking care of kids… But he helped her anyway. When her leg started hurting all she really wanted was Aunt Mac. Keeter did just as good… Maybe better… Especially since she had to tell him what to do. It's okay now. but still… the leg cramp was no fun. Plus, Charlie had fussed at her a little bit for overdoing it when she told him about it at therapy on Monday. He told Aunt Mac not to let her go any extra places besides school and Liam's house this week. She doesn't much like that but, since she is stuck at home, she finishes reading two books, and she talks to A.J. a few times with Facetime on Aunt Mac's Ipad.

He gave her the ideal for how to fix Felix's head. First, she had to take the skeleton mostly apart. She rebuilt his spine and neck a bit differently than the skeletal image Chloe had first given her making it slightly wider than necessary so that it was capable of supporting the extra weight of the head. Once Felix was reassembled with all his parts minus his problematic skull, she built that according to one of the drawing that A.J. had e-mailed to her. Even Mr. Bud had helped a little bit when he suggested, and helped draw Felix's head a few different ways for her to try out. Now that she finally has an idea how to make it work, Laura constructs a round hemisphere with a flat surface for a rudimentary face with misshapen holes to represent Felix's eyes, his nose and his mouth. While she works, putting the pieces together, she decides that if his head will stay attached this time, she doesn't really care if it's not shaped like a real head. At least not right now, maybe someday… If she can get a bigger set of Magnetix that has different pieces in it, she'll build him a better head. But, for right now, if this works, she'll send A.J. and Mr. Bud a whole big carton of their favorite candy; Whoppers. Uncle Harm said he would go to the store and get them for her if it worked.

It takes her almost two hours to put the new heads together. There are four drawings, all of them similar but with minor differences in shape and structure. She tries the first two and they don't work any better than the ones she built without help. She builds the third and the first time she attaches it to Felix's spine, it stays for a second but she accidentally bumps the table and his head falls off again. Frustrated, she growls, and kicks the broken misshapen skull across her bedroom floor. Disgusted, she sits on her bed and glowers at the stupid headless skeleton with her dog watching her curiously for at least 20 minutes. Finally bored with watching Candy tries to pick up what remains intact of the skull, scattering the pieces a bit more when she moves to Laura's side and gently drops what's left of the construction in the girl's lap. Uninspired, Laura deposits the tangled mess onto her bed. Undeterred, Candy hops up on the bed and tries again, picking it up, scattering a few more pieces, and re-deposits the item in her young mistress's lap yet again. Knowing it's pointless to push it aside again, Laura rubs the dog's ears. "What? Want me to try again?"

Candy sits with somber eyes and wags her tail quietly.

Laura gives in. "I guess being mad at him won't rebuild his head any faster." She sighs, lifts one shoulder in a shrug, and slides off the bed. She moves around the room picking up the pieces with Candy's help to start again with dogged determination. Fifteen minutes later she attaches the head again. Slowly, with exaggerated care, she removes her hands, spreading her palms apart dramatically, and backs carefully away from the table; one step at a time. When Candy attempts to put her front paws on the table to stand up on her hind legs for a better look, Laura quickly but firmly grabs the dog's collar. "Uh uh, no way, don't you dare!" She scolds gently; exasperated, but also trying not to giggle. "Don't even breathe on him!" She whispers; hissing emphatically as she stares in awe at the finally completed project. For a moment, she holds her own breath, and silently wills it not to fall apart. She waits motionless until her chest hurts and her brain is screaming, "Breathe!" Still only half convinced the thing isn't going to fall apart, she inhales slowly and then pushes out a careful breath before reaching for her walker and taking flight. Opening her bedroom door, she bellows with excitement. "It worked! It finally worked! I don't have to change his name to Ichabod! Felix has a head! Quick! Somebody come take a picture before he falls apart… Uncle Harm, Aunt Mac hurry; fast!"

Four days later, she takes pictures and a video to school to show Felix to her class. Mrs. Kefauver said it was okay. They made a video, because no way was Laura going to try to move Felix all the way to school. He'd fall to pieces in the car ride! Her class really liked Felix… Even Jenny Chatham says Felix is kind of neat. Now Liam wants some Magnetix for his own.

Nothing else that was super exciting happened for a while. She went to school, and she went to therapy. Grandma Trish and Grandpa Frank either came over to their house for dinner, or invited them to come visit sometimes. Mom called, and she went to visit Mimi twice on the weekends. Keeter and Skates came over sometimes too. Keeter even showed her how to build a motor with her Magnetix. He wanted to take Felix and his bridge apart to use the pieces. She told him no! So, Grandpa Frank gave her a bigger set a few days later and that's how they built the motor. It had parts inside that actually spin, but it was way bigger than a lot harder to build than the spinning rotors she built with Uncle Harm. Twenty minutes after they built it, Keeter was already bored with watching it spin, and he wanted to smash it. She told him no again!

He probably would have smashed it except that's when something scary happened.

Skates knocked on the front door. She didn't come over with Keeter that day. She went to visit her aunt in the hospital first. When Grandma Trish let her in she looked like she'd been crying. Laura got worried that maybe she was sad because she found out there was no baby inside her, but she asked if Keeter was there, and then he and Skates went into Uncle Harm and Aunt Mac's bedroom. When they came back to the living room a long time later Keeter was holding her hand and Skates said that her aunt had a mild stroke but she was still alive and still talking. Laura didn't really understand what a stroke was or why it was sad, but she hugged Skates anyway.

The next weekend Skates and Keeter go to visit her aunt in the hospital again and then they come over to eat barbecue on the beach. Skates looks funny to Laura. She is a little bit sad, and she doesn't look like she feels very good, but her eyes are sparkling anyway. She says the nurse put something funny called liqui-thick in her aunt's coffee to keep her from choking on it because sometimes people who have had a stroke choke on liquid stuff. Skates says her aunt's coffee looked like coffee colored Jell-O, and she doesn't know why, but It grossed her out and made her want to throw up. She also says Keeter should get away from her and stop touching her, because his aftershave does not smell good! Confused, Laura takes a whiff for herself. He smells fine to her. He doesn't stink. Laura tells Skates so. Maybe she is getting sick and if she doesn't feel good, she should go lay down. The guest bedroom is finished, 'cause Uncle Harm and Aunt Mac has been working really hard on making the house bigger. Skates smiles at her but before she can say anything, Uncle Harm looks at Aunt Mac kind of funny. Aunt Mac doesn't say anything, she just picks up her purse and walks out the door without a single word. She comes back a few minutes later with something in a little brown paper sack; the kind of sack the guy at the candy store gives Laura when she buys her jelly beans. Aunt Mac gives the sack to Skates, and actually walks with her to the bathroom door. For the next 10 minutes Laura watches Aunt Mac, Uncle Harm, and Keeter walk around quietly not talking about whatever is going on, but they all keep looking at the bathroom door like they are waiting for something strange to happen. Laura shakes her head. Big people are so weird! If somebody doesn't tell her what is going on soon, she's going to call Grandma Trish!


	100. Chapter 100: Speaking Volumes

**Chapter 100: Speaking Volumes**

**Author's Note: **One hundred chapters; and the surrogacy is barely under way. I can't believe it! Still, when the story is complete, there may not be quiet so many. I'm going to reorganize the story a bit when it is done. a few of the smaller chapters that are back to back would read better if they were one chapter. However, I have learned with experience, not to mess with the format of the story while it's still in progress. After the final edit, although the body of the story won't change, the format will and hopefully it will become a tad easier to read.

Happy 4th of July Y'all. It's not Independence Day in Laura's world, but I have a feeling it's a red letter day; nonetheless!

* * *

Saturday, April 26, 2008

Rabb Residence

11:47 HRS

Laura sits in the late April sunshine on the front porch step, her dog watching hopefully as she spoons coconut flavored greek yogurt from a small plastic cup. Even though she knows better, she's tempted to rub the dog's ears as she eats. Instead, she makes a point of not making eye contact with her furry friend. She knows if she does the big black dog will be in her lap and her snack will cease to exist. So, she doesn't look at the dog. She sits quietly, puzzling over the behavior of grownups. Maybe you have to be a grownup to understand a grownup, but after you do grow up, do you forget how to think like a kid, and if you do, do you even remember how weird you used to think they were?

Aunt Mac and Uncle Harm seem to understand each other most of the time… Except when they don't. Sometimes they even understand each other without talking. Grandpa Frank knows when Grandma Trish is looking for her car keys; even if she doesn't say so. When Skates is sad about her aunt Keeter doesn't talk about it. He just holds her hand, and then she looks not so sad anymore.

Her yogurt is almost gone. Why can't they put the stuff in bigger cups?

Maybe it's not just a grownup thing. Not all big people act this way. Mom never talks to anybody without saying words. Laura helps herself to another spoonful and shrugs. To her dog she says, "Maybe it's only Uncle Harm's people, you know, his family and his friends."

Candy's only reply is to sit patiently, swish her tail slowly, and stare at the yogurt container with her ears pricked slightly upward; listening for a word or command she recognizes.

Without looking at her, Laura says, "You can lick the cup when I'm done. Down!"

Candy complies; stretching her paws out in front of her as her belly comes to rest on the step beside Laura. She continues to watch though, her gaze never wavering from the girl or her snack.

Intent on continuing her conversation with her friend who never answers but always listens, Laura opens her mouth, but remains silent when a familiar car pulls into the driveway beside her house. She smiles brightly and waves with enthusiasm at the two people visible through the windshield of a pale metallic green Chrysler. Busy with her thoughts, and content to sit and finish her yummy coconut snack, she waits patiently for them to come to her.

When, in due course, her grandparents do approach she returns her grandmother's "Hello darling." With an eager greeting of her own. "Hi Grandma… Hey Grandpa."

While Frank looks around, checking their surroundings, Trish glances at her watch before answering a question no one asked. "No… we're not late… or early… They're probably in the backyard with the barbecue pit."

Frank's blue eyes sparkle merrily as he takes in the curious expression on his granddaughter's face. Certain that he already knows the answer, he settles himself on the step beside her and drops a warm arm around her slender shoulders. "What you doing out here all by yourself, my girl?"

As she shrugs, Laura helps herself to her last bite of yogurt and then sets the empty container down on the porch between her dog's front paws. "I'm just thinkin' bout stuff. That's all." She hugs him tightly while her dog happily begins to lick away any trace of yogurt left in the container that is finally hers.

Frank nods and offers his wife a knowing smile. "I thought so."

Laura scoots far enough away from him to look up at him with a puzzled expression. "You thought so? Why?"

Trish chuckles quietly. "Because you've got your thinking face on; that's why. He told me when he pulled into the drive, "Uh oh, she's thinking again. He knew it as soon as he saw you."

She squints at the two of them. "I have a thinking face?"

"Indeed you do." Frank pats her shoulder affectionately; giving it a gentle squeeze. "So, what are you thinking about this time? Anything you want to share?"

"Big people are weird!" Laura says without preamble.

Already intimately familiar with the statement, Frank laughs and asks, "Again?

The girl shakes her head emphatically. "No Grandpa, not again… still. They haven't stopped being weird. You have to stop being weird the first time before you can be weird 'again." She stresses the last word for the sake of importance.

Unable to fault her logic, he nods. "Okay, what have Uncle Harm and Aunt Mac done today?"

"it's not just them. Keeter and Skates are weird too… Even you and Grandma."

Trish smiles with the faintest hint of uncertainty while Frank shrugs with ease. He smiles at his wife and repeats gently, "Big people are weird." As if she should understand that it's a rule of some kind. Returning his attention to Laura, he inquires, "What about us is weird today?"

She points with her thumb toward the front door. It's way too quiet in there. Makes me itchy. Uncle Harm and Aunt Mac are noisy people… And they have noisy friends too. But at least it's good noise. At Mom's house, noisy is bad. Quiet is good. It's backwards here. Backwards but better. Plus, I used to think it was just Uncle Harm and Aunt Mac. That talking without talking thing… But you all do it. Keeter knows when Skates is sad. He doesn't say nothing. He just holds her hand… And she feels better; like he said something nice and made her feel happy… Only he didn't. And Grandpa, you always know when Grandma can't find her car keys or her glasses. She doesn't ask, at least not out loud, but you always answer. Aunt Mac left a little while ago… Just 'cause Uncle Harm looked at her. He didn't say anything. He just looked at her. She didn't say nothing to nobody. She just left." Laura giggles and shrugs. "She came back a few minutes later with something in a brown paper sack. Now nobody's saying anything in there." She pauses to point back over her shoulder at the house. But they're all talking to each other. They're all staring at the bathroom door waiting for something to happen. But I don't know what."

Bending slightly, Trish scoops Laura up in her arms and then takes the vacated spot on the porch step beside Frank, before settling the girl across her lap and giving her an affectionate squeeze. "Laura, darling, that's not such a mystery. It happens when people know each other very well. You get to where you are so familiar with each other that you anticipate each other's habits. You build a kind of… connection… That makes it so that words are not always necessary."

"How come Mom doesn't do that with anybody?"

Trish shrugs. "Maybe your mom doesn't have anyone she's that close to. People who do this… it's usually about more than just knowing each other. I know lots of people. However, I can't look at most of them and tell, just by looking, if they're hungry, or cold, or sad, or confused. I don't know just by looking at their face what most people thinking. I can do that with your Uncle Harm and I can do that with your grandpa. I'm even starting to do that with you and your aunt Mac every once in a while. It's more than just knowing a person… It usually happens when we love someone very deeply. You do it too. You're just not aware that you do it. When Aunt Mac starts to say something but she stops and you finish for her because you already know what she's going to say… When you and Uncle Harm are making the house bigger and he holds out his hand but doesn't say anything and you hand him the tool he wants anyway… You probably do it best with your dog…"

"My dog!" Laura giggles self-consciously and eyes Candy curiously.

"Sure. Because you've probably spent more time with her one on one then with anybody else here. She's trained to pick things up when you drop them, but she was trained to pick things up that you ask for specifically. Think about it, how many times have you dropped something, or just needed something, and not had to ask? You just look at her and she knows."

Catching on, Laura nods thoughtfully. "Sometimes I don't even have to look at her. Sometimes, she just does stuff all by herself."

"See… Because she knows you… Because she loves you. And Laura, you know better than any one of us when she wants to go outside, when she's bored, when she's sad or maybe when she doesn't feel good… and that's really important because, unlike the rest of us, she literally can't tell you if she doesn't feel good… or if she needs your help with something. She needs you to know. She needs you to understand, and you do." Trish kisses the top of the girl's head. "So see, big people may still be weird, but this isn't something that is weird and it's also not something that's exclusive only to adults. You can do it too."

Laura grins happily. "Cool! That's good, 'cause I'm tired of sitting on the front porch trying to figure it out."

"Goodness! You mean they were being so weird they chased you out here onto the front porch. You didn't even want to be in the house with them?"

Laura shrugs. "it's not so bad Grandma. They didn't chase me out either, but they were starting to make me feel kind of itchy and confused. I came out here to think about it and to eat my yogurt. When I went back in, if they were still being weird, I was gonna call you…" She shrugs again. "Since you're here, I don't have to. When I'm at home with Mom, if she starts being weird, I hide in the closet. Especially if one of her stupid boyfriends comes over. You were right. Sitting in a dark closet by yourself sucks! The porch is better."

Trish hugs the girl close. "Yes darling, the porch is definitely better… And just out of idle curiosity, I've never heard you describe any of your mother's boyfriends as anything other than stupid. Isn't there at least one smart one in the bunch?"

"Laura squints and wrinkles her nose as she thinks about it seriously for a silent moment. "Well… There was one… The one I actually liked. He was nice but he didn't stick around very long. I don't know for sure… But maybe he was too smart for Mom. Maybe that's why he left."

Biting her lower lip, Trish makes an effort to remain quiet and she swats gently at Frank, trying to no avail, to silence him when he gives in; lifts his face to the sky and laughs openly.

Laura's head pivots side to side as she passes a look between the two of them; trying to figure out what's funny.

Doing his best to dry up his laughter, Frank explains, "I've never met your mother, my girl, but somehow I have the feeling, based solely on what I've heard, that truer words have not been spoken."

Laura smiles but squints at him inquisitively. "Okay. But why is that funny Grandpa? I didn't say anything funny."

Trish swats affectionately once more at her husband's arm. "Laura never mind your grandfather. Suppose you tell us exactly what was going on inside before you came out here with your yogurt."

Laura shrugs dramatically. "I don't know what's going on inside. All I know is everybody was that frozen kind of excited. I don't know why. Skates and Keeter came over today for barbecue, just like you and Grandpa. Skates looks sort of… I don't know… Pukey. Kind of like Uncle Harm did when he was sick and he still lived in London. You remember… When you went to get him and bring him back here. She looks kinda like that, only not exactly the same. She said her aunt's coffee grossed her out, and she wanted to throw up, but she didn't. Then she told Keeter to get away from her and not touch her no more or else she was gonna throw up on him because he did not smell good. But… Grandma, it's a weird 'cause he kinda does smell good. I don't know what is wrong with her nose, but when she said that… Well, that's when Uncle Harm and Aunt Mac started doing that talking without talking thing. He just looked at her. She didn't say nothing. She just picked up her purse and left. I guess she went to the store because she came back with one of those little brown paper sacks like you put candy in. But I don't think it had jelly beans in it. Skates took it in the bathroom. Now, or at least before I came out here, everybody's just standing around, not talking, and looking at the bathroom door. They were making me itchy. So, I got my yogurt and came outside. That's it. That's all I know."

"Laura darling, you know quite a lot. And you're right, that brown paper sack didn't have any jelly beans in it."

Laura raises an eyebrow. "You mean… You know what was in that sack… Just from talking to me."

Smiling, Trish takes the girl's face in her hands and kisses it multiple times. "Yes. I know exactly what is in that brown paper sack!"

Giggling, Laura says, "I guess I was right. You must have to be a weird grownup to understand other weird grownups, because it still makes no sense to me. Please stop kissing me Grandma, and just tell me, okay?"

Trish chuckles quietly. It's nothing too mysterious Laura. It's just a home pregnancy test. Their testing to see if you're going to have more than one cousin by this time next year."

Stunned momentarily silent, Laura takes this in and passes a look of pure wonder between her two grandparents. "You mean a lady can take that test at home… In the bathroom? I'm confused, I thought you had to go to the doctor to find out."

"Yes. A lady can take that test at home… In the bathroom. If it comes up positive, she goes to the doctor. The doctor does their own test to confirm."

Laura's dark eyes go wide. You mean… Now they're both going to have a baby; Miss Harriett and Skates?"

"Well… I can't promise, but based on everything you just told me, I'd say it certainly looks that way."

"Two babies…"

Frank smiles. His eyes every bit as bright as his granddaughter's. "We better hope it's only two babies… Any more than that, and your aunt and uncle or going to need an army just to raise them."

"Grandpa! They already have the Marine Corps and the Navy."

Exchanging a sweet smile with his wife, Frank nods. "And they may need them both, my girl."

Trying to extract herself from her grandmother's arms Laura declares with exuberance, "Come on! What you guys waiting for? Let's go find out!"

Rising to his feet, Frank plucks the girl from Trish's arms and then offers his lady a hand and a wink; bringing her gently to her feet. Two steps across the small porch and Laura whispers in awe, "Wait… If there is two babies… Are they twins?"

Trish and Frank exchange a quiet look. Both of them with raised eyebrows. "They're… Not quite twins… No… but, if there are two of them, I imagine they will grow up very much like twins."

Frank raps lightly on the front door and then pokes his head in before opening it fully and allowing his wife to perceive him into the house.

They stand in the small alcove at the entrance taking in the anxious expressions of the three adults in plain sight. Keeter paces quietly like a restless lion. Mac's lower lip is caught in the vice grip of her teeth and the grip she has on Harm's hand is white-knuckle fierce. Trish can tell by the look on her son's face that there's no blood flow in his fingers, but he says nothing in complaint. He wraps his free arm around his wife's shoulders and kisses the top of her hand.

Frank smiles musings silently, "Laura had it right. They are all an exciting kind of frozen.

No longer confused by, or ill at ease, with the silence, Laura joins in; and watching her friends and relatives with a keen interest and she smiles down at her dog. Even Candy is aware of the intense vibe in the room.

After a long moment, Mac hisses impatiently "Harm…"

He flashes his grin; as he does battle with his own impatience. "Just give her another minute."

Mac rolls her eyes. "It doesn't take this long. She's been in there for more than 10 minutes. It's been twelve minutes and twenty-two seconds actually. Unless there's a problem… Unless the thing turned green or something… Harm!"

He holds her little tighter; trying to keep her grounded.

When it's obvious that's not going to work, he tries to let go of her hand. When it's made clear she has no intention of doing this, he walks her over to stand nearer his friend and gently, but forcibly places her hand in Keeter's. When the look she gives him makes her objection abundantly clear, he holds up both hands in a defensive posture while simultaneously patting the air; asking for patience. Before his wife can argue with him, he quickly steps across the small living. In the short hallway outside Laura's bathroom door, he taps softly. When Skates answers; with a soft and slightly dazed, "I'll be right out." He says patiently. "Beth, honey, nobody out here wants to rush you, but if you don't come out of there soon Mac's going to be in there with you… Even if she has to take the door off the hinges."

They wait another long silent moment before she answers for everyone's benefit as she opens the bathroom door and steps over the threshold. "Tell her not to do that. She should save her energy. She's going to need it… And if you guys feel like celebrating… Somebody better pour me a glass of milk to go with my plate of barbecue."


	101. Chapter 101: What A Marine Wants

**Chapter 101: What A Marine Wants**

**Author's Note: **How was your holiday? Did y'all have any fun. I slow cooked a barbecued pork loin. I swear I saw Harm walk into my kitchen and turn his nose up. He wouldn't touch it! Mac and Laura were in seventh heaven!

* * *

Monday, May 12, 2008

SPECWAR Captain Rabb's Office

12:14 HRS

"Right Admiral. No problem Sir. Enjoy your afternoon. I'll expect your call on Wednesday." Jotting a note to himself on his calendar regarding this expected call, Harm hangs up the phone at his desk intent on returning his attention to the paperwork in front of him. However, before he can do so, his attention is otherwise claimed by the very shapely pair of legs crossed at the knees in one of the guest chairs on the opposite side of his desk. His gaze travels upward… Knees, green skirt, her cover in her lap with her hands folded neatly over it, trim familiar hips. He smiles. He knows who's sitting in his office before his eyes complete their journey over a flat abdomen, full breasts, her slender neck, her knowing smile, and finally the dark alluring eyes of his wife. Caught enjoying himself, he flashes his grin. "Mac!"

Her smile shifts to something playful and slightly saucy while her eyes go wide with silent laughter and she fires back "Harm!"

Still grinning, he glances at his closed office door while he rubs his left hand over the back of his neck and shakes his right index finger at her. "Exactly how long have you been sitting there?"

"Eight minute and twenty-four seconds."

Surprised by the duration, he chuckles uncomfortably. "Please tell me you're kidding."

She raises an eyebrow and asks patiently. "Since when do I joke about time?"

Not bothering to actually say the words, "You don't. You never do." He rises from his chair and moves around to the other side of the desk, perching lightly against the corner; close enough for his knee to brush lightly against her thigh. "That's it. Its official. When my wife can sit in my office unnoticed for over 8 minutes, I'm working too hard!"

The smile she still offers is warmed by a subtle, but unmistakable flash of desire. "You were busy." She wobbles her head side to side. "And… I didn't want to disturb you at first. Seemed like an important phone call from this end."

"You didn't want to disturb me at first?"

"Yeah… After the moment passed… I was just being sneaky." She admits with pluck.

Not in the least bit surprised by the admission, he nods dryly. "And you got this close unannounced because…"

"Because your bullpen is nearly empty out there. People are at lunch. I let myself in."

"And you're here because?"

"I brought you lunch." She nods toward the takeout bag resting in the other chair.

Curious, he reaches over and helps himself to the bag he hadn't noticed previously. When he finds grilled salmon and vegetables for two from a local restaurant, he eyes her with suspicion. "You bring me lunch that I will actually eat, you apparently have no plans to stink up my office with your usual dead cow on a bun, and you don't give me grief for not noticing you for nearly 10 minutes… Time to fess up! What do you want Marine?"

Even though the door is closed, and his outer office use nearly empty, she drops her voice to a whisper. "Currently… I can think of quite a few things…" Her eyes shine seductively. "But even mention of most of them would get us into some very hot water at our present location. So… that conversation will have to wait until later." She holds out a hand expectantly and he places one of the boxed lunches in it along with a packet of plastic-ware before helping himself to the other.

"And, what about the one thing you currently want that we can discuss here… Or did you come all this way just to flood my engine and then leave me stalled?"

She eyes him with mock astonishment and protests lightly, "Harm, I wouldn't do that."

Laughing, he spears sautéed zucchini and carrots with his own fork, and nudges her thigh with his knee. "Oh yes you would!" He declares before taking a bite.

Unashamed, she shrugs and decides to get on with the real reason for her visit. "Skates came to my office this morning. Actually… Correction… She was on her way to my office this morning. Before she got there, she had to stop the lady's room, which is where I bumped into her. Poor thing. She's miserable with morning sickness. I can't help but marvel at the differences in their symptoms Harm." She sets her lunch down momentarily on his desk, and retrieves her phone from a pocket. She tinkers with it briefly until she can pull up an image of their blonde friend on screen and holds it out for him to see. "Bud sent this one late last night."

Harm smiles and points with his fork. "I think she's finally starting to show… Just a little. Good. I was wondering if we should start worrying yet."

Mac shakes her head. "Harm, the doctor says she's fine. Better than fine. And Harriett knows what she's doing. That's why we picked her; remember?"

He nods and swallows a bite of food before continuing. "I know. I know. The distance just makes me nervous. What if something goes wrong and we're not there fast enough?"

Mac thinks this over for a silent moment before responding. "if something does go badly wrong… I suppose our presence there won't change the outcome… Neither will a rapid arrival. But Harm, at present, there's nothing to worry about. Don't make me do that unless I have to. Right now, everything is fine. The baby's fine, Harriet's fine, for that matter, even Skates is fine… She just doesn't feel fine. Harriet says if it weren't for the little bit of weight gain and the ultrasound she might still question whether are not she's actually pregnant. Poor Beth has no doubt. After this is over, if she decides that she never wants to do this again, not even for herself, it's going to be our fault.

"Ahh… Skates is pretty sturdy. Give her time to get through the worst of it. She'll rise."

"Yeah. I'm getting to know her a bit better. I still feel like I owe her a monumental apology though. Even if she weren't sick. I don't know how or why this didn't occur to me before today… But she's grounded, and all because she's helping us. She can't fly, and I didn't even think about it until this morning. I'm sure both you and Jack thought about it instantly. I feel like an idiot! I should've thought about this before now."

"Don't beat yourself up Mac." He shrugs with understanding. "You don't love to fly. It's not something you yearn to do. That's why you didn't think about it. She knew if the transplant took she'd be grounded. She volunteered to do it anyway." Obvious emotion shines in his blue eyes. "Beth is… special. Don't worry. The Navy will find other ways to keep her busy… Until they can't. She wants to do this. If she didn't… She wouldn't."

"She said pretty much the same thing this morning when I finally clued in. Jack's aftershave is still causing her grief though. She may have willingly climbed out of the cockpit, but before she throws him to the curb in order to alleviate her own nausea, I suggested she take him shopping for something new; something she finds less offensive. I told her to send us the bill."

"So she came by to commiserate about Keeter's attar? Doesn't sound like her."

Mac shakes her head and sips from a bottle of water. "No. Actually she came by with a request. Her aunt wants to meet us. She mentioned once before that her aunt and uncle never had any children of their own. That she was theirs by… default… I think she called it. Apparently, Eleanor Dandridge is very impressed with her decision to act as a surrogate for us. Skates doesn't think she'll be here all that much longer. She said today that she has a feeling her aunt wants to hold out until the baby is born, but Skates is trying to be a realistic. She doesn't think it's possible and she wants to make her aunt as comfortable and as happy as possible in whatever time she has left. She asked if we would mind. I told her that if it was possible, she could bring Mrs. Dandridge by to visit one weekend. We could make a nice lunch for her, or if that's not possible, we'd be happy to go and meet with her at the hospital, or anywhere else she likes. That's when Beth mentioned that she's trying to get some reliable in-home care for her aunt. It seems the lady doesn't really want to die in a hospital. I can't say I blame her. Beth's having a little trouble. There are more than a few agencies that provide such care, and her aunt more than qualifies, but the ones that they can comfortably afford aren't always reliable. She didn't ask, and I don't know how she would feel about this, but I was wondering…" Mac hesitates briefly before finishing. "If maybe we could offer to make up the difference in price for a better; more reliable agency."

Harm smiles. Nodding before she's even finished. "If we had a paid surrogate, it's likely we might wind up paying off their college loans or some other important expense. As it is, we're going to spend a small fortune on airfare traveling back and forth between here and D.C. It's only right that we find some way, inadequate though it may be, to compensate her… Not to mention Bud and Harriett. That is, beyond just paying for the medical expenses. If we can give a dying old lady some small measure of comfort in her last days, and in doing so, maybe ease Beth's suffering as well; that's more than okay with me Mac."

"Okay good. I didn't want to offer to take on that kind of expense without talking to you first, but I really think we need to. Just feels right. What are we supposed to do for Bud and Harriett?"

His eyes go wide as he thinks about it and then shrugs. "I have no idea. Make really healthy donations to their kids' college funds… Buy Bud some state-of-the-art prosthetic? One that'll do everything short of open a bottle for him. That might appeal to the geeky science nerd that lurks not too far beneath his surface."

Mac laughs. It wouldn't surprise me to find out there are prosthetics that will open bottles. Although, they're probably prosthetic arms; not legs. It's amazing what out there. Just trying to fit Laura with the right leg brace was an eye opener. It's unbelievable how many there are and what can be done with them. Given that, I'm sure there's quite a lot about prosthetics that neither one of us knows."

"On that note, what exactly are we going to do to keep Laura busy for the next seven months. Once the renovations to the house are complete, I have a feeling she's going to go a little stir crazy waiting for her cousins to arrive."

Mac nods and shrugs. "We can come up with some sort of game plan tonight. Tomorrow is a teacher in-service day. No school. She's spending the night with Liam."

"Oh she is? No kid in the house? Gee, what will we do it ourselves?"

"That has already been decided Flyboy. She's spending the night with Liam." She nudges his knee with her thigh. "You're spending the night with me."


	102. Chapter 102: Meeting Miss Ellie

**Chapter 102: Meeting Miss Ellie**

Rabb residence

Saturday, May 24, 2008

Lunchtime

At the stove, Mac carefully adds ingredients to two pots, using the index finger of her free hand to trace a line of text on the page that contains her recipe.

From her stool at the bar, Laura samples her recipe from a small bowl that contains only just enough to taste. "Aunt Mac, it needs more hot stuff."

Switching the stove's burners down to a low setting, Mac turns to smile at her niece. Leaning on her elbows on the opposite side of the bar, she helps herself to the girl's spoon and samples the bowl's contents one more time for herself. After a careful moment's consideration, she shakes her head. "Sorry kiddo. I know you like it a little on the fiery side. Me too, but I'm dialing it back a few notches this time. Mrs. Dandridge may not be able to the eat spicy food. I don't know for sure. It's better to be safe than sorry. Skates will be here too, and she's a bit sensitive to things. Right now, certain smells and foods are kind of hard on her. So, just enough spice to make it taste good… Unless somebody tells me differently. If there's any leftover, we'll put a little more Cayenne in it later."

Laura thinks this over for a moment, shrugs and nods agreeably, and then returns her attention to Mac's iPad and the project she's currently tinkering with.

Before she can return to her meal preparations, the sound of Harm dropping some tool on the floor overhead reminds her to check her internal chronometer, and then walk the short distance to the first floor landing. "Harm…" She calls loud enough to be heard above the sounds of construction that seem to have taken up a permanent residence in the background of their life. "Better wrap it up for now. They're inbound; 18 minutes."

It takes two full beats before he calls back down to her, "Okay… I'll be right down. Turn on the shower for me?"

Already on her way to the master bathroom, she yells. "It'll cost you Squid!"

By the time her aunt comes back to the kitchen, Laura can hear the shower running, and her uncle is coming down the stairs; taking two at a time.

On his way past her, he musses Laura's hair affectionately while he reaches out and pulls his wife close for a quick kiss. He likes it so much that he decides to do it again. Just a bit more fervently the second time around.

Laughing, Mac pushes gently against his chest, not really interested in leaving his arms. "Harm, when I said it would cost you, one kiss would have been enough…. And you've got plaster in your hair."

On his way again, he flashes his grin. "I know. I'll wash it out and… keep the change."

Laura rolls her eyes, but grins happily. They're noisy and they're weird, but at least they're not mean to each other and they don't yell bad words either.

As they hear the bathroom door shut, Mac returns to the stove, asking over her shoulder, "How's it coming baby?"

"I just now finished putting the pictures in. I'm just waiting for it to finish loading… It says or… gan…iz…ing data." Laura verbally trips over the larger word, but sounds it out correctly. "Chloe's right. It's not hard. It tells you what to do. Guess it just takes a long time to do it."

"That's not surprising, you've been taking a picture every 4 hours with Grandpa Frank's camera for the last three months. That's approximately…" Mac pauses for a second to think about it. "540 pictures. It'll take time to upload all that to the app."

Laura stares at her aunt with obvious wonder in her wide eyes. "Your iPad says 531. How do you do that so fast in your head. I can't do that Aunt Mac."

Mac takes the short grocery list that is in progress from behind its magnet on the refrigerator door. Stepping close, she squeezes the girl's shoulders and turns the list face down on the counter as she picks up one of her niece's nearby art pencils. "Look, I'll show you." She sits down beside the girl and starts to write as she talks. "You took a picture every 4 hours. There's 24 hours in a day. So, 24 divided by 4 equals 6. That's six pictures a day for three months. Three months is approximately 90 days. 90 days times six pictures; bring down the zero, and 6 times 9 is 54, so you get 540 pictures… I think Grandpa needed his camera a couple of times, so he took it down for a few hours, and I think it was raining one day. That accounts for your missing pictures."

Laura nods. "It rained on more than one day. But not for very long, Grandpa Frank put a little tent over the camera so it wouldn't get wet and he wouldn't have to take it down every time it rained."

"That's right. I forgot about that! You might even have a few pictures of flowers in the rain." Mac smiles.

Laura nods as she glances at Mac's quickly scrawled math. "I can do it like this. If I can see it. But I can't do it without pencil and paper."

"You will someday. You're smart enough. It just takes practice. You just started working on the times tables, so it doesn't come naturally yet. Give yourself time."

"Aunt Mac, Mrs. Kefauver says we have to show our work. We're not supposed to do math in our heads."

"She just wants to see your work so she knows you're using brains instead of batteries." Mac whispers as if it's a grand secret.

Laura squints; puzzling over the comment. "Batteries?"

"Yeah… Like the ones in a calculator."

Laura's smile is slow to form, but then, catching on, she giggles. "Oh okay, I get it." She glances at the door and squeaks happily when someone knocks loudly taping out the rhythm of 'Shave a Haircut.' Sliding carefully off her bar stool, she announces "I'll get it. I bet you that's Keeter being silly."

Mac happily watches as the girl crosses the short distance to the front door without her walker. Although her gait is still, and probably always will be, a bit stiff. She's getting stronger and short distances are less of a problem.

Pushing the heavy lace curtain aside at the window beside the door, Laura waves at most of the people she finds waiting there, and then for Keeter's benefit, she smiles brightly and sticks her tongue out.

Scowling playfully, the tall man on the other side of the window pane sticks his own tongue out from his place behind an old lady in a wheelchair and then grouses in mock exasperation, "Just open the door runt. Let us in already; would ya!"

Giggling, Laura opens the door. "Hi everybody." She says eagerly including her grandparents who are coming up the walk behind those already at the door. She smiles at the one person she doesn't already know. "Are you Mrs. Dandridge?"

"Why yes, I am sweet girl, but you may call me Miss Ellie."

Laura nods agreeably. "Okay then!" She announces with a warm light in her eyes. "You can call me Laura. Come on in!

As they all crowd into the small foyer, the elderly lady in her early nineties quietly observes Laura's leg brace and her somewhat awkward way of walking. As Mac steps around the bar that separates her kitchen from her cozy living room to greet her guest of honor, the older woman smiles warmly. Squeezing the hand Mac offers her gently she says, "Eleanor Dandridge. Thank you for inviting me… And I guess that explains the wheelchair ramp out front." She nods gently in Laura's direction."

"Actually no. Laura's able to navigate steps as long as they're deep set enough to accommodate her walker. Harm put the ramp in last weekend in anticipation of your visit. However, Laura likes it so much that we may leave it."

"Well yes! I'm sure it makes things much easier for her, and thank you kindly for the accommodation. I hope you didn't go to too much trouble."

Mac shakes her head adamantly. "Not at all. The house is already under renovation. We already had everything we needed. It took Harm and I about an hour to have it in place."

"Yes this charming reprobate mentioned that your household was undergoing expansion… In more ways than one." She smiles merrily, her blue-gray eyes twinkling with delight as she indicates Keeter with a slight nod in his direction. "But tell me… I thought for sure he was joking, having a bit of fun at my expense, is your husband's name really Harm?"

Mac chuckles. "Yes… I'll let his mother explain." She nods; casually introducing the two women. "Trish Burnett… And her husband, Frank..." Mac gestures toward the gentleman. " And, Mrs. Eleanor Dandridge… You can call me Sarah or Mac… Whichever you prefer."

The two matriarchs in the room exchange warm smiles of greeting. "His name is Harmon. He was named after his father but from very nearly the moment he was born, and certainly from the moment he took his first steps, Harm suited him much better. Harmon is much too proper a name to fit his personality; it's too… Polished and stiff." She points at Keeter. "Harm's not quite as 'devil may care' as this one, but the difference is marginal. You'll see when you meet him. Calling him Harmon regularly would feel about as comfortable as calling this one Jackson."

Keeter scowls with discomfort as Eleanor Dandridge looks over her shoulder at him. She considers Trish's words with deliberation and then wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. "No that wouldn't do for him at all. I gather most people don't even call him Jack."

Trish chuckles. "Even his mother didn't call him Jack. He's always been Keeter to everyone except the Sarahs in the family. Harm's paternal grandmother always called him by his first name. She was of the opinion that someone should regularly remind him of the fact that he's just as human as the rest of us… First name and all. Apparently, although they never met, Harm's wife agrees with his grandmother. She's taken up the habit for her own."

"Well… Everyone please come in." Mac says a bit more formally. "Make yourself at home. Lunch will be on the table shortly, and Harm should be joining us momentarily; he was working upstairs on the renovations until just a short time ago. He just needed a few minutes to clean up a bit. Does anyone want something cold to drink?"

Assigning herself to duty Trish eagerly steps into the kitchen. "I'll get the drinks. Unless you tell me differently, I'm pouring iced tea. When no one objects, she sets to work, peering curiously into one of the pots on the stove as she does so. "You decided to try the gumbo again Mac? You must have liked the recipe."

"I did indeed. We all did. The smaller pot is for Harm of course. Extra shrimp for him, and all the okra since Laura won't eat anything slimy." She smiles at the girl warmly when she scowls unpleasantly in response to her aunt's words. "So the larger pot contains a smaller amount of the shrimp with no okra, but it has all the sausage and chicken." She pauses briefly to pass a curious look around the room. "Though, I dialed back on the spices a bit this time in case anyone here has a sensitive palette."

Trish nods thoughtfully, as her husband scoops his granddaughter up in his arms, hugs the girl tightly and sniffs the aroma in the air with appreciation. While he says, "Smells fine to me." Trish says, "I just hope Beth doesn't have the same aversion to seafood I had when I was carrying Harm. I tried it once during the pregnancy and after that I was so sick I didn't eat seafood again for nearly two years."

When Mac turns a worried gaze toward Skates, she shakes her head adamantly. "I can sympathize with Trish. There are some things I may never need again. Maybe it's weird but, seafood is one of the few things that I've found that doesn't bother me right now." She shrugs; indicating her own lack of understanding. "So… Bring it on! I'm starving… And don't hold back on the spices on my account… Or Aunt Ellie's for that matter! She's always said that a good bowl of gumbo is supposed to make your mouth sweat bullets!"

Mac glances at the spirited lady seeking confirmation, and she nods in agreement as her grandniece continues. "Jalapenos have never tasted so good! It makes no sense! Plus, last night, Keeter took me out for a steak and a baked potato, because I wanted it so badly. I'm telling you, I could taste it before I even sat down at the table. But, alas, your kidlet was having none of it Mac! One whiff of what would have been an excellent medium rare steak, and I was running for the lady's room."

Mac groans comically. "You can't stomach the smell of beef, hot and spicy is fine, and seafood doesn't make you sick. Oh God! With the exception of my appreciation for all things hot, I've got another fish-eating vegetarian on my hands!"

Skates laughs merrily. "Maybe not! Trish couldn't eat seafood while pregnant, and It's the only meat Harm will eat now. He may have yet another strong willed carnivore on his hands. We'll just have to wait and see."

* * *

**Author's Note: **More soon. The muse is willing, but this chapter made me hungry. The stomach needs food!


	103. Chapter 103: Meeting Miss Ellie II

**Chapter 103: Meeting Miss Ellie II**

**Author's Note: **Someone rained on my parade! I was in a very bad mood all day until I received a review from ladyorca that brought a smile to my face and made me laugh out loud. This chapter is brought to you, courtesy of her. She returned my muse and coaxed her back to the laptop.

* * *

Rabb Residence

Saturday, May 24, 2008

Lunchtime

Mac returns to the kitchen with the blessings of her guests, who have no objections to a well-seasoned bowl of gumbo. While she accommodates them, Skates butters warm yeast rolls, and Trish puts the finishing touches on a light spinach salad topped with feta cheese, pecans, cranberries and a tangy vinaigrette. Frank helps himself to a barstool and smiles when his wife pauses in her work long enough to set his glass of iced tea down in front of him before offering one to Keeter and Eleanor as well. From her place in Frank's lap, Laura picks up her aunt's tablet and returns to her project. When Keeter deliberately nudges her with his elbow, she smiles without looking up from her work and nudges him back but says nothing, so he turns his attention back to Elizabeth's aunt.

"Shall we find you a comfortable spot in the living room? I'm sure no one will mind if you want to get out of that chair for a while."

She nods idly; acknowledging his words without conviction. Half of her attention is elsewhere. "Yes, but later. Right now I want to know what this sweet child who is dressed in fabulously bold colors is so focused on."

Laura tears her attention away from the tablet long enough to glance down at the white seersucker dress she wears with its vivid floral design in neon colors one would have to be blind not to notice. "This is one of my swimsuit covers. Aunt Mac says maybe we can go swimming after lunch if the temperature stays above 70°. I'm ready, just in case… And I'm making a movie."

"A movie!" The elderly lady glances at her hostess with a warm smile and a raised eyebrow; seeking verification.

Mac nods affirmatively as Laura clarifies, "it's only a really short movie. Not like when you go to see one in the movie theater."

"My heavens child. The length doesn't matter. You're making a movie! When I was your age, we played with paper dolls!'

Laura tilts her head to one side and smiles with curious uncertainty. "What's paper dolls?

"Ah… You've never heard of them. Well, I'm not surprised. Nowadays kids don't know how to play with something that doesn't have to be plugged in first."

Laura squints. "My friend Liam loves his Game Boy. He'd rather play video games than almost anything else, but not me. I play with other stuff. This is Aunt Mac's tablet. She lets me use it sometimes, but I'm not allowed to have one of my own yet. I'd rather go outside and play with my dog anyway, or read a book, or draw my pictures, will play with my magnets. So, what is paper dolls, please? Is it fun?"

Frank pats the girl's shoulder affectionately. "She speaks the truth Ma'am. Sitting in the house staring, glassy eyed, at some image on an electronic device for hours on the end would require her to actually sit still. Not that she's incapable, but she's never still for long unless she's thinking. Then her mind is so busy that her legs have no choice but to take a break.

Eleanor nods. "When I was a girl, we would take scraps of paper, and cut them out into the shapes of people, and then cut out clothes for them to wear. My sisters and I would put on a fashion show with our dolls made of paper."

"Oh okay. If I had real paper and scissors, that might be kind of fun. For a few minutes anyway. There is a Disney princess dress-up app…" Laura pauses in what she's doing long enough to open said app. "See… You can pick which princess you want to dress up, and then you can choose from all kinds of clothes." Laura scrolls rapidly through some of the options. "But I only played with it a few times. "It's kind of boring… At least on the tablet anyway. If I had to actually cut out the clothes and make them myself; that would be better. Lots more fun."

As she works in the kitchen, Trish notices, and chuckles lightly in response to, the slightly puzzled, yet delighted, look on Eleanor's face. "Laura is fiercely independent. She literally needs to do things for herself. She's very curious and tends to learn new things in a variety of ways. But I think she leans most heavily toward tactile experiences She's very 'hands on."

"A lot of kids her age are. That's why so many of them have trouble sitting still in a classroom and simply watching and listening as lessons unfold. They need to be actually physically involved in the process in order for it to hold their attention. When I was teaching, more often than not, the students who excelled academically were also the students with the most conduct issues. They were bored by simple auditory or visual learning."

"You're a teacher?" Laura asks curiously.

"Oh not for a long time now. I retired almost 30 years ago. But I taught fourth grade for more than 40 years."

Laura smiles. "I'm in second grade… Mostly."

"Mostly?"

"Yeah, I go to the second grade classroom with Mrs. Kefauver, but I do fourth grade science and spelling and fifth grade reading. School used to be boring. But Aunt Mac talked to some of my old teachers and they said I needed classes for older kids. School is not boring anymore." She shakes her head dramatically.

"Well no wonder you're making movies!" She studies the girl with a practiced eye. "I see you're a bit small for your age but I'm thinking if you can handle fourth grade science and fifth grade reading… You must be… what… at least seven or eight?"

Laura nods eagerly. "I'll be eight in November. Sometimes my birthday happens on Thanksgiving."

"Well, it sounds like your aunt has gotten you off to a great start Laura. Don't ever stop learning. If you stop learning; you'll get old. Not just on the outside, but old on the inside too! Nobody can help getting old on the outside, but getting old on the inside is a crying shame. There's always something new to discover. All you have to do is look for it. Now… What's your movie about?"

"It's about how a flower is born. I bought Grandma Trish some pretty pink flowers for Valentine's Day. They're called gladiolas. We planted them, and Chloe and Grandpa Frank helped me take lots of pictures. Now I'm putting them all together to make a little movie so I can watch the flower bloom in a few seconds instead of in a few months. I'm almost done. You wanna watch after we eat lunch?"

"I certainly do. Is this your first movie?"

"Uh huh!" Laura nods emphatically; bobbing her chin in her usual fashion.

"Well, in that case, sign me up. I'd love a private viewing of your filming debut."

Laura giggles happily. "Okay but I didn't take the pictures. Grandpa's camera did that. I just put them all together. That's all."

That's more than enough, sweet girl. I bet most almost eight-year-olds haven't made movies."

Freshly showered and dressed Harm approaches the first floor landing near the kitchen's back door and steps into view flashing his best smile. "She's done quite a few things most almost eight-year-olds haven't done. After lunch, get her to introduce you to her friend Felix. He's quite impressive. I'm Harmon Rabb… Harm. You must be Mrs. Dandridge. I apologize for my slightly late entry." He offers his hand in greeting. "I was floating sheet rock upstairs a little while ago. Time got away from me and I made more of a mess of myself than I was planning to. Welcome; it's a privilege to meet you, Ma'am."

She smiles warmly; her steel blue eyes coming alive with surprise. "Good gravy! You're taller than he is!" She points enthusiastically at Keeter.

Keeter throws back his head and laughs when Laura says quietly in a singsong voice "He doesn't mean to be."

Eleanor Dandridge laughs merrily. "Well no. I suppose no one ever means to be the height they are… or aren't, for that matter. Beth, honey, you're going to be in a world of trouble if that baby you've got brewing has his shoulders."

Setting a basket of warm buttered rolls on the counter, Skates glances at Harm for a flicker in time before she groans. "Aunt Ellie! Work with me, will you please! I'm trying really hard not to think about that… seeing as how it's too late to turn back now!"

Laughter travels around the room as her aunt shrugs. "Okay honey. We don't have to talk about that, but I hope you all will permit an old lady to ask a few questions. I promise, I'll try not to be too nosy."

Mac chuckles. "Sure, ask anything you want. Shall we move to the table?"

"Oh, are we ready. I can wait until after we eat if you would prefer."

Trish laughs dryly and points at her son. "His grandfather might have swallowed his teeth if we had dared to gather around his table for a meal while discussing the conception an impending birth of a child. In his book, that was most certainly not appropriate dinner table talk. However, in this house, you never know what mealtime conversation will sound like… anything goes."

Keeter flashes his own version of the patented flyboy grin and, crossing his arms over his chest like the scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz, he points one index finger at Laura and the other at Mac. "That's because one of them is always, either eating, or about to eat. If you waited until there was no food in sight to have a slightly intimate conversation… This place would be a silent as Grant's tomb!"


	104. Chapter 104: Meeting Miss Ellie III

**Chapter 104: Meeting Miss Ellie III**

Rabb Residence

Saturday, May 24, 2008

Lunchtime

They all settle in at the new polished hardwood dining table with steaming bowls of Mac's fragrant Cajun delight. Its predecessor only sat four and, soon enough, would not accommodate their growing family; much less today's lively bunch. Taking the usual amount of time to scoot cheers this way and that, and arrange napkins across laps. Drinking glasses are positioned within comfortable reach, as are rolls and salads. A few more seconds tick by as everyone samples what is before them. Mac chuckles gratefully when Skates groans with pleasure. "Finally! Something I can eat! Something your kid will let me eat! Not to be greedy, but can I take some home?"

The Marine nods in affirmation. "Leave Harm and I enough for lunch on Monday. You can take the rest of it with you. There's more than enough for us to eat today and still have several servings left over."

Her elderly aunt clears her throat, but says nothing until after she's taken a drink of iced tea and blotted her mouth with her napkin. "You're quite the chef."

Mac's laughter is bold and honest. "No I'm not! I'm not horrible. But there are very few things that I make well. I guess Trish has sort of taken me under her wing. Her recipes are well written, very easy to follow, and when necessary, easily altered for Harm's slightly vegetarian tastes. Harm does most of the cooking in this house… and he is good at it. He's even exceptionally good at seasoning meat properly which is particularly impressive considering he doesn't often follow written recipes, he rarely eats meat, and he tends to cook according to his taste buds. The only thing I make exceptionally well is coffee… And that's only if you like yours hot, dark, and strong enough to resuscitate someone in full cardiac arrest."

Eleanor Dandridge chuckles discreetly and says quietly; almost in whisper, "Sounds just fine to me honey. I like both my coffee and my men that way."

Bouts of pleasantly startled laughter make their way around the table while Trish smiles and adds. "She tells no lies! My son may cook, but he does not know good coffee. I love her coffee. But,

contrary to what she just said, she really is not a bad cook. She's just unpracticed. I suspect she's rarely had anyone to cook for."

"Well, I daresay that's about to change." Says the frail but spirited lady with a head full of slightly unruly gray curls."

"I know." Mac admits; with mild discomfort obvious in her voice. I figure I've got about a year, maybe a little more, before they start eating soft mushy food; baby foods, mashed potatoes, that sort of thing. Harriet has just entered month number four… God… It feels so strange to say that out loud. Sometimes it feels as if her transplant was yesterday. Sometimes it feels as if it was 10 years ago. Harm and I are stuck in 'hurry up and wait' mode."

"I never had the privilege to carry a child. I would have given…" Eleanor shakes her head. "Nearly anything to have experienced that honor for myself. My Johnny and I were never able. Oh, don't get me wrong, we had hundreds of kids. Between my students and the neighborhood strays whose parents either couldn't or wouldn't give them the time they needed… And we've raised one of my youngest brother's five children like they were our own. My brother was a drifter. A good man, but the only thing he did as well as he disappeared, was to show up briefly, an unexpectedly. His wife was what we used to call a functional alcoholic. Though I was always of the opinion that there was no such thing as a practicing functional drunk. She could get up, go to work, hold a job alright, but she would drink herself into a stupor every night, and she was mean even sober. Her kids were afraid of her and she chased off every friend she ever had. I don't call that functional."

Taking a polite sip of iced tea before she begins, Mac admits, "Speaking as one who no longer practices. "You're not wrong. Even if we do manage to hold a job, and behave at least semi-well in polite society, our private lives become train wrecks. There's nothing functional about what goes on with a practicing alcoholic behind closed doors."

Mildly surprised, the old lady studies her hostess quietly for a beat in time before she nods. "I didn't know. Perhaps I shouldn't have mentioned it."

Mac waves the comment aside. "You can talk about anything you want. Your words don't bother me, and they can't hurt me. They can't lead me to drink unless I let them and that's not about to happen. My sobriety is my responsibility; not yours or anyone else's."

"Oh honey… Where were you 20 years ago when that statement might have made a difference in my brother's life?"

Mac chuckles dryly. "Twenty years ago I was 19, and drunk. I don't think I would've done your brother much good. I wasn't much good to anyone; including myself. What happened to your brother, your sister-in-law, and their five kids?"

"One of the boys died young. 10 years old. He was riding his bicycle, he swerved and jumped a curb to avoid an erratic driver. He wasn't hit by the car, but when he fell off his bicycle, he hit his head on the pavement. He died several hours later, a burst aneurysm. Looking back, I'm sure that's when my sister-in law's drinking really spiraled beyond control. No one should ever lose a child. No one deserves that heartache. Three of the remaining four are fine people; excellent really, and I love them all dearly… including the youngest. Though she's had some troubles with alcohol herself… And other substances. About 17 years ago she was convicted of vehicular manslaughter when she chose to get behind the wheel high on God knows what. She killed a teenager who had only had his driver's license for a month. She's out of prison today clean and sober. Though, she's got a hard road ahead of her. She's trying, without much success, to reconnect with her daughters who were raised by her step father, not my brother, but my sister-in law's third husband. The daughter who remembers her wants nothing to do with her. I think she was nine when her mother's prison sentence began. Her younger sister was a toddler and doesn't remember her mother it all… At least not beyond what she's been told. She wants to get to know Rhonda, but she's exceptionally close to her older sister and her desire to get to know her mother is causing a rift between the two girls. Nicole was torn between loyalty to her sister and curiosity about her mother. It's sad to watch. As for my brother, he's gone now. He committed suicide about 26 years ago. He drank too, although in the end, I think he had bigger demons to face than just alcohol. He was a good man, but one of the demons he was running from eventually caught up with him."

Mac winces and then her eyes go wide as she plays with her salad fork idly. "It's bizarre… Uncanny and bizarre… How close that story is to my own. I had a father who drank, a mother who ran, a savior who wore Marine-green and combat boots for an uncle, and my sister, who I never knew until just recently, is the one in prison…" She breathes deeply; tired of the whole sad story. "For assaulting a police officer… and I have the niece…" She reaches across the table and pats Laura's arm with reassuring affection; noticing that the usually chatty girl has fallen silent, as have all the others at the table; allowing the two women to carry the lion's share of conversation for the moment. "Who I would move both Heaven and Earth for; if only I were strong enough.

"Yes well…" Eleanor tries to breathe some cheer back into the conversation; sensing that both her hostess and her young charge have had enough of sad stories. "The good news is; you don't have to be strong enough to move Heaven or Earth. You just have to be strong enough to show up. You have to be present. You'll have to stay present. Souls who will understand one another; souls who need each other have a way of finding each other. I believe it's just one of the ways the old man upstairs looks out for all his kids. He puts us in each other's way. Of course, sometimes that does more harm than good but I think that's where free will, and therefore human error, come into it. It's not all destiny, but it's not all choice either. Johnny and I did the best we could for the children. My brother's; they were never our legal responsibility. Just a moral one, but they were ours, nonetheless. Still, I would have reveled in, and loved, every wretched minute of a pregnancy.

She pauses to smile thoughtfully before continuing, "Of course, they didn't do this sort of thing when I was young enough. This sort of thing hadn't even been heard of. If it had been, it would've been laughed at and labeled as bizarre science fiction. Just imagine, getting someone to actually birth your own biological child for you! The fact that it's even possible is astounding!" She pauses to point at her niece and smile with obvious maternal affection. "Her great uncle would be proud beyond words had he lived to see this day and so am I. It's a blessing to know that someone I helped to raise is willing to step up and do this. Only just today I've been informed that she isn't the only one."

Happy to see the dark shadow that had passed over his niece's face starting to dissipate, Harm puts down his spoon. "Yes we have friends who live in Washington, DC who have four children of their own; our godchildren, Harriett just entered the second trimester. We were told initially that the transplant hadn't taken and that she was not pregnant. So, we decided to try again with Beth, only to be told a short time later that Harriet's negative test results were incorrect. Now, we have two children on the way; literally at opposite ends of the country."

Harm gets up from the table, walks to the refrigerator and removes two black and white ultrasound photographs held to the door with magnets. Before returning to his seat, he delivers both photographs to his guest so that she might enjoy them. "Our children. We were thrilled beyond words to attend Harriet's first ultrasound two months ago. Then, last week, we got to experience that same thrill all over again; thanks to your niece. There aren't enough ways to say thank you in all the languages ever spoken or written."

Placing his napkin back in his lap he adds, "I can't wait to find out their genders. I'm certain one of them is a boy. Mac doesn't like talking about it, but she knows. How she knows defies logic, but she does. Ultimately, it doesn't really matter as long as they're both healthy, that's what we want most, but I'll admit… I'm hoping at least one of them is a girl. It's unlikely we'll get to do this again."

Eleanor's smile, as she softly caresses the two photographs with old but graceful fingers, is a thing of beauty. "Oh, but you're going to be busy! Tired, but gloriously busy!" She looks around, not needing to move from her spot in order to take in most of the downstairs layout. "In this tiny little two-bedroom house."

Harm smiles and nods. "The original structure was tiny. There isn't much more work to be done downstairs. First, we added the new master bathroom for ourselves. Laura now has her own. I bumped out a wall and made our bedroom just a tiny bit bigger. Then, after careful consideration, we added a third bedroom downstairs, just off of our bedroom, to serve as a nursery. We have neither decorated nor furnished the nursery yet, but the room itself is complete. While they are babies, we want them downstairs with us; especially at night. It won't do any good to have us downstairs and them upstairs. We don't want to move Laura upstairs. At least not yet anyway." He winks at his impatient niece. "Her physical therapist says that taking the stairs occasionally is no big deal. Taking them every day, multiple times a day, is not a good idea. So, upstairs, there will be two more bedrooms and another bathroom; for the babies when they're old enough. In the more immediate future, for guests. Our godchildren will be visiting this summer to give their mother and father a much needed break. It's the least we can do, in light of what they're doing for us."

"Laura waves theatrically; trying to get his attention. "It's okay Uncle Harm. I changed my mind anyway. I don't want to move upstairs anymore."

"You don't? What inspired this change of heart?"

Laura takes a spoonful of gumbo and swallows before she answers. "Remember when I was worried that the baby would get my room? I mean before we knew there was gonna be two of them."

"Yeah, I remember. Do you? We talked about that…"

Before he can continue, Laura smiles and waves her spoon in the air as she talks. "Yeah, I know, I know. My room is mine forever. Nobody ever gave me nothing to keep forever… Not before you and Aunt Mac. I'll keep my room; even if it isn't upstairs. My room is awesome!"

Keeter chuckles at her no nonsense tone of voice as she declares, "I decided something else too."

"Well don't keep us all in suspense, runt! What else have you to say?" Familiar with her colorful pronouncements, Keeter covers his mouth with his napkin quite sure that he, and everyone else at the table, is about to laugh that something that Laura won't expect to be taken as funny.

"I wasn't sure at first. It was nice to think about; it was also kind of scary. But I thought about it a lot. Like a whole lot. I'm ready. If you and Uncle Harm really wanna adopt me, Aunt Mac; it's okay with me. She's still my mom, but I wanna keep all of you, and my cousins… and my room too!"

Without speaking, Mac leaves her seat, walks around the table, picks the girl up, and hugs her until she squeaks. "Uh… Aunt Mac… Hard to breathe… Let go! I was eating!"

With noticeable traces of moisture in the corners of her eyes, Mac blinks deliberately and sniffs lightly as she gently returns Laura's feet to the seat of her chair and the girl slides carefully back into place. "Sorry baby. Didn't mean to interrupt your lunch. You just made me so stinkin' happy, I couldn't help myself! Uncle Harm and I already went to see the lawyer. I'm just trying to catch a moment with your mother. I want to tell her in person. I don't want some lawyer to just deliver the paperwork before I've had a chance to talk to her about it. I don't want to do it on the phone either. This is something that should be done in person."

"Uh… Aunt Mac. I don't get it. How hard can it be to catch Mom? She's in jail. It's not like she can leave… Right?"

Mac laughs drolly. "It's harder than you know Laura. The last two times I went to see her; her visitation privileges had been very recently suspended, and by recently, I mean half an hour before I arrived. Turns out, making this two-bedroom cottage into a five-bedroom house is easier than talking face to face with my sister." When Laura frowns nervously, Mac is quick to add, "But don't you worry about it. It'll get done. I promise. You're more than worth the effort."

"Okay!" Laura perks up again. "When are you going to decide what color to paint the nursery?"

Returning to her seat. Mac groans and smiles at her guest of honor once more. "I can't make up my mind. I'm not much of a traditionalist. The standard pink and blue doesn't really have much appeal for me."

Eleanor Dandridge shrugs easily, "So go with a nice soft cheery yellow. Its gender neutral, and when they outgrow all their infant things you won't necessarily have to repaint the room. White baby beds; or maybe a nice polished oak. Alphabet blocks or a Noah's Ark theme have been done to death. What else is there? Let's see…"

Laura grins. "I vote for puppy dogs… Or maybe airplanes! Uncle Harm would like that!"

In unison, Frank and Skates suggest, "Puppy dogs in airplanes?" And then laugh at themselves.

Keeter shakes his head wildly. "Don't confuse the poor rug rats before they're even old enough to talk! Dogs do not fly planes!"

Happily, seated between he and her new friend, Miss Ellie; Laura leans over and nudges Keeter in the ribs. Before challenging, "Snoopy does. And he's good at it too!"

Caught completely off guard by this particular announcement, he squints for a moment thinking about it before a wide smile spreads slowly across his face. "Not as good as me!"

Laura rolls her eyes. "You're not a dog… Are you?" Tilting her head to one side and studying him thoughtfully, Laura picks up the sleeve of his loud Hawaiian print shirt and carefully examines his arm. "You don't look like a dog. If you had fleas, I don't think Skates would like you so much."

When Keeter opens his mouth to speak and then snaps it shut again, momentarily rendered speechless, Trish covers her mouth and nose with the palm of one hand and trembles with the effort to keep her laughter silent.

Shocked and more than a little bit pleased to see the man at a loss for words, his girlfriend's aunt reaches around behind Laura's chair and gently squeezes his shoulder. "As bright as you are, my boy… It's pointless to argue with an intelligent child. Trust me when I tell you that this is a battle you are not equipped for. You will not win!"


	105. Chapter 105: Dessert with Miss Ellie

**Chapter 105: Dessert with Miss Ellie**

**Author's Note**: I have no idea why it took me this long to discover this, but a recent discovery has made me feel slightly stupid, or inept, at the very least. It shouldn't have taken this long. If I enlarge the font of a typed or dictated document, making it big enough so that I can see from across the room, I can dictate a new chapter while going about my daily chores. Dust furniture, fold laundry, or wash dishes, and write; all at the same time. Talk about multitasking. It probably won't be my preferred method, I bet I'll find that I make more errors if dictating while distracted by other things, but no more having to sit perfectly still for hours on end while I do this! It was kinda one of those "Why didn't I think of that… sooner" moments. Oh well, better late than never; right?

It's touching how many of you have written to say that you like Ellie. I'm pleased. She seems to remind many of you of some beloved elderly family member… She should… She is one. I suspect we've all got an Ellie somewhere in our lives.

* * *

Rabb Residence

Saturday, May 24, 2008

"Harm has also made improvements to our back porch. It's a very nice place to sit and watch the ocean perform its tireless mating ritual with the beach. How about we take coffee out there and continue our conversation?" Mac offers.

Before anyone else can respond Frank chuckles quietly. "You and my wife! Only two people I've ever met who would call the waves tumbling in on the shore a dance, or a mating ritual!"

Mac smiles and lifts one shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. "That's what it is. Its timeless. Since moving here in 2005, I watch the water and sand flirt with each other daily; constantly back and forth, always the same, and always different. Never boring and almost always soothing in one way or another; even on the rare occasion that the water's choppy and storm-tossed. I never get tired of watching."

"Keeter raises an eyebrow. "If it's really as intimate as you say, doesn't that make you a voyeur?"

Mac stands up laughing and gently throws her linen napkin at his face. "Only you Jack! Only you could take this conversation and turn it into something kinky."

Catching the napkin easily, he smiles and shrugs. "Hey, I don't mind kinky. You started it. You're the one who brought it up."

"We can't go outside yet, Aunt Mac!"

With a puzzled expression on her face the Marine turns to look at her niece. "You're not finished eating yet?"

"I finished my gumbo. I need dessert."

"I think there's some leftover fruit salad." She raises an eyebrow; silently asking if the girl is interested.

"No! Grandpa brought green stuff."

Mac turns an inquiring gaze to her father-in-law. Who, in turn, asks Laura, "How do you know I brought green stuff? Did you see me bring it in?"

"No, but I know you did. I asked you to. You said maybe." She smiles enthusiastically and nods with certainty. Grandpa, when you tell me maybe, you mean yes!"

Surprised by the announcement, Frank turns curiously to his wife, who smiles serenely and hums in the affirmative. "She tells only truth darling. I've never heard you tell her maybe, that she didn't wind up getting exactly what she wanted."

Frank thinks about this for a moment realizing that it is indeed true, and then, he shrugs, rises from his chair, walks into the kitchen and retrieves a large rectangular Tupperware dish from the refrigerator while Trish goes after dessert plates, a cake knife, and clean forks for all. When they bring all these items to the table, Trish says enticingly, "Who wants some… Other than Laura? We know you want some, darling.

Unaware of what's about to be served, Eleanor looks on curiously, politely reserving comment until after she knows what she's commenting on;while Keeter makes a slightly sour face. "I'm not sure I want to eat anything that is referred to as 'green stuff!"

Skates shoots him a slightly exasperated look.

"What? I'm just sayin'!"

In response, Skates looks at her aunt, a moment of silent communication passes between the two women and the older of the two reaches around Laura's chair and pinches Keeter just above his elbow. "Don't be rude, my boy." She scolds discreetly when he scowls and rubs his stinging flesh. He attempts to glare at his girlfriend, but the effort is belied by the twinkle in his eyes. "it's not enough that you pinch me? You have to enlist family members to do it for you?"

Skates offers him a saccharine smile and blows him a kiss.

Laughing, Harm assures, "It's safe… Uh… That is, the dessert is safe. I promise. I can't make the same guarantee when it comes to earning the wrath of the women in your life."

Trish chimes in. "You've had the dessert before. I think the original name of the stuff was Pistachio Delight; or something like that. Frank made it last Christmas. Only the name didn't meet with Laura's approval; possibly because she didn't yet know what pistachios were. Anyhow, she renamed it. It's Grandpa's Green Stuff now. It's a chilled desert; pistachio pudding mix, combined with cream cheese and whipped cream in multiple layers on a graham cracker crust. Laura loves the stuff!"

Keeter flashes his grin and teases, "Are you trying to make me fat, runt? I work hard to look this good; you know?"

Laura gives him that look that says his sanity is being called into question, yet again. "No! I'm not trying to make anybody fat. Don't eat it if you don't want to. There will be more left over for me." She bobs her chin with certainty.

Skates chuckles. "Well, I'm about to gain weight regardless of what I eat. Cut me a small serving please Trish." She adds hopefully, Since the aroma of gumbo is still in the air, maybe I can fool your grandchild into letting me eat it."

Trish happily complies and delivers a plate with a quiet, "I wish you luck."

Mac gets up to pour coffee for her guests, and when Laura has her plate, she announces, "Me and Candy are going outside now."

As she rises to her feet, Trish corrects gently, "Candy and I are going outside now… Please."

Laura smiles. "Okay, Candy and I…"

"Thank you. Much better, but where is your walker?" Trish looks around curiously; not seeing the small ambulatory device in any of its usual places. "I haven't seen it since we arrived."

Laura shrugs. "It's okay. It's upstairs. I went up with it, but it's faster and easier to go up and down the stairs without it. Uncle Harm put a rail on the wall by the stairs. I'm okay. I can hold on."

"Yes darling, you can hold on, when you're going up and down the stairs… What about the rest of the time?"

Laura looks at her dessert, sighs reluctantly, and sets it back down on the table. "Okay." She gives in. "I'll go up and get it."

"No, that's okay. You wait here. Someone will go up and get it for you." Trish looks pointedly at her son. Message received, he smiles dutifully and rises to his feet; excusing himself momentarily.

Frank scowls slightly; puzzling over the minor issue. "Maybe give her one walker for downstairs,and one for upstairs so she doesn't have to haul the contraption up and down the stairs with her.

Mac and Eleanor both study the girl thoughtfully as she nods hopefully; liking the idea. After a moment's hesitation, both women say in unison, "No. I don't think that's a good idea right now."

Mac clarifies further. "Her physical therapist, Charlie, advised us not to move her room upstairs. He does not want her climbing the stairs too often; not before she's ready. If she had a walker upstairs, and one downstairs, and the stairs are easier to climb without by a walker, she'd be tempted to go up and down the stairs more often than she should, whether her room is up there or not. We're trying to lessen the number of leg cramps she has; not make it greater."

With the more than adequate reminder of his own experience with Laura's leg cramps, Keeter picks up the girl's dessert plate in one hand, wraps an arm around her belly, and lifts her off the floor. "Come on kid. Take a load off. Fly Air Keeter instead; next stop, the beach!" On his way to the back door, he looks back over his shoulder at Laura's dog; who is lying patiently on the floor under the table. "Come on Fur-face; you too. Let's go outside!"

* * *

**Author's Note**: It's only just after midnight, but I have to call it quits guys, at least for the night. I feel like somebody pulled my battery. It's been a long day. More tomorrow.


	106. Chapter 106: Wondrous Things

**Chapter 106: Wondrous Things **

**Author's Note**: if you want to, you can go to Youtube and find videos of time lapsed flower growth, including the flowers mentioned in this chapter; gladiolas.

* * *

Rabb Residence

Saturday, May 24, 2008

"Hammock or chaise lounge?" The sandy haired pilot asks with a grin.

"Definitely not the hammock. Put me in that thing and I will be like a turtle stranded on its back. Especially since that damn stroke. The left side doesn't move so good anymore dear. I need something with a little more support if I'm going to be comfortable." Even before she finishes talking, Eleanor finds herself reclining comfortably on one of the back porch's chaise lounges, and her niece is dropping a light turquoise colored throw blanket over her lap. She looks around taking in the scenery and feels as though she is sitting in some magnificent seaside painting. It's easy to tell that the porch is new even before Trish says in surprise, "Mac? I thought You said he made some improvements? He tore the porch down and built a new, bigger, one in its place! Everything is fresh, the wood, the stain, the paint, the furnishings…"

Mac smiles and shrugs. "Yes, well, he put a lot more work into it than I thought he had planned. He said the old one was really just here for the sake of having a back porch. It was rather utilitarian in nature. It wasn't really a place to sit and watch the world go by. Now, it is! We've got room to move around, spread out, get comfortable, and do a little ocean watching. There are plenty of comfortable places to sit, a roof for shelter from the sun or rain, I love the new ceiling fan. It provides just enough to move the air when it gets warm. The new gate at the steps keeps Candy from going down and jumping in the water if we don't want her to. Technically, she could jump it easily, but with her training, she won't. Not unless she's feeling really hyper. Harm wants a better outdoor grill than the one I have. I'm thinking maybe for Father's Day. I think he'd get a kick out of that. We could sit out here after dinner in the evenings… Watch the kids play, live the good life… and get old."

"Indeed." Eleanor declares. "You've got your own little piece of paradise right here. When we pulled into the drive, I knew we were close to the water. I could smell it. Beth said we would be. However, I didn't realize that the ocean was literally in your backyard. Is that an old wood frame daybed over there?" She points to the left end of the porch and the piece of furniture where Laura is currently perched and enjoying her dessert.

"It is. It was mine before Harm moved in. I don't want to get rid of it. Maybe someday we'll put it in one of the kid's rooms, but I doubt it. In my mind, it's still ours, and I think I like it where it is. Harm distressed the wood to make it match the loungers, and then weather treated it so that the sand and salt air won't destroy it. We'll keep the mattress covered in something weather resistant and just use it in lieu of a back porch swing."

The old lady stares out over the water, silent for a long moment before she says, "Well, you two did a beautiful job. Monet couldn't paint anything half as pretty."

"I like La terrace de Sainte Adresse." Laura says softly before taking a bite of one of her favorite desserts. When her new friend, Miss Ellie, turns a look of vibrant surprise her way, she explains, "It's a Monet painting of people on a terrace by the ocean. Not like our back porch, but it's pretty."

"Yes, I'm familiar with the painting, dear girl. I just didn't expect you would be." She chuckles; astonished. "Tell me, what does an almost eight-year-old girl know of Monet, or other artful masters?"

Laura shrugs easily, and gently pushes her dog's nose away from her food. "Grandma Trish has a gallery. She doesn't have The Terrace on display, but she has lots of art books. She lets me look at them sometimes. I wanna go to the Louvre when I get big… And the Sistine chapel too. I've seen pictures of it in some of Grandma's books. But, I want to see that for real. That would be awesome!"

The old lady's blue eyes sparkle with delight as she sips coffee. "Where else do you want to go Laura?"

"Lot of places. Tons of 'em! And not just to see art… But that too! Aunt Mac takes me to get books at the library, and I read about all kinds of places. I wanna go to the Metropolitan Museum in New York, and to the Schultz Museum, it's not for art though… I mean, not like the kind in Grandma's gallery. Unless you call Snoopy art. Mr. Shultz was the guy who drew the Peanuts cartoons. I want to go to Australia, and Okinawa too; because Aunt Mac's been to both places. She talks about lots of places she's been to for work with the Marine's. I wanna see them too. Uncle Harm's always talking about something that happened on a carrier. I think it would be neat to walk around on one for a day. I wanna go to Africa and see all the wild animals, and London; because Uncle Harm was there. He said he didn't like it much, but I think that's just because he missed to Aunt Mac. He might like it better if we went for a visit and took Aunt Mac with us. Oh, and Vermont too because it's where Chloe lives. She said that it's really pretty. The trees have lots of colors. Maybe even Pennsylvania, where they make all that chocolate! But… It all has to wait. I can't go anywhere right now. Maybe when I get adopted. Then Mom won't be able to say no. I didn't even get to go with them to Washington, DC to see Miss Harriet's ultrasound. I'm not allowed to leave California… Yet. But at least I had fun with Grandpa while they were gone. I got to go see his office. It was cool!"

Keeter can't help but grin. "Your grandfather's office compares to the wilds of Africa? Is every place a grand adventure, runt?"

Laura nods emphatically. "Pretty much! Doesn't really matter where I go. Anyplace is better than hiding out in my old bedroom closet waiting for Mom's stupid boyfriends to get tired of yelling and go home."

A repugnant scowl twists Keeter's face, but before he can comment, Eleanor jumps in. "Maybe…" She offers Mac a smile. "Maybe you and your aunt and uncle could take a trip after the adoption is complete. Something to mark the occasion."

Mac nods hesitantly. "Maybe… That's not a promise Laura. It depends on whether or not we can finalize the adoption before the babies are born. If we can, then we might have time to take a trip. After they're born, Uncle Harm and I won't be going anywhere for a while. Newborn babies… They don't travel so good. The Schultz Museum is here in California though. Maybe we could go visit for your birthday. Even if the adoption isn't complete yet."

Laura nods eagerly as her uncle steps out onto the back porch with her walker and places it within her reach. "Maybe we could go where for her birthday?"

"To Snoopy's Museum. That'd be fine. I can wait for the other places."

Harm perches lightly against the wooden frame of the old bed and drops an arm around the girl's shoulders as he hands over his wife's tablet. "Here, I brought this out for you. Go show Miss Eleanor your movie."

Laura eagerly deposits her empty dessert plate into her uncle's waiting hand. She gets to her feet and gently drops the tablet in the basket on the front of her walker. As she crosses the porch, her furry companion trots along at her side loyally. She climbs up onto the chaise lounge next to the old lady and snuggles close. Then, on afterthought, she turns her head, craning her neck around awkwardly, to look up at the woman and ask, "Is it okay if I sit here with you? I won't hurt you, will I?"

Skates smiles as her aunt squeezes the little girl with affection and pulls her even closer. "I can still enjoy a good cuddle. The good Lord hasn't let me get so frail that I can't do that. Don't you worry about me. Show me some pretty flowers!"

While Laura cues up the video, the other six people on the porch gather close; quickly finding places that allow easy viewing.

Eleanor, not to mention everyone else, finds herself amazed by the obvious amount of time, effort, and thought that was obviously put into the project as the brief, 3 minute, movie tells its story. The earliest frames of the video are actually of the planting process. Laura and Trish can momentarily be seen on screen planting delicate bulbs in rich dark soil. Laura listens carefully to the instruction Trish provides; helping. to plant flowers with careful hands and a soft touch. Then, as the time lapsed portion of the video begins to play, light cheery instrumental music can be heard in the background and a caption that reads, "How A Flower Is Born. By Laura O'Hara" gradually appears near the bottom of the screen in flowing white letters, and then just as gradually fades away. For the first 5 seconds, there is nothing to be seen except for well-tended soil. Then delicate vivid green tendrils begin to sprout; reaching for the sun. Over the next 30 seconds, tiny green sprouts grow to be approximately 18-inch-long stalks. The stalks become slightly lighter in color before they sprout new soft green tendrils along the sides accompanied by the first faint appearances of minuscule pink buds of color that bloom and unfurl delicate, tender petals that sway gently in even the lightest of ocean breezes. Bees visit; touching down lightly in search of nectar, gentle rain falls and then the sun dries it away and more petals unfurl until pale green stalks are heavy with pink blossoms. The movie ends with a shot of carefully arranged gladiolas in an elegant, yet simple, crystal vase in the center of the Burnett's formal dining table.

When no one says anything immediately following the end of the movie, Laura gently prods, "That was the end.

She finds herself being gently squeezed once again. "Yes dear girl, we know. We're all just a little mesmerized. I have grown all kinds of flowers in my lifetime. I never got to watch it happen that quickly in my own garden. That was glorious! You can be very proud of this. It's breathtaking. And… I don't know if you know this, or not… But something very similar to this is happening with both of your little cousins right now. You just can't see it happening."

Laura nods with certainty. "Yeah… I know. Aunt Mac tells me about a new baby stuff every week because they're growing." She scowls thoughtfully. "I wish I could time lapse the babies so they would hurry up and get here."

Eleanor can't help but laugh at her impatience, and all the other adults join in as well. "Oh… I wish you could do that too Laura! Now, that would be a wondrous thing to behold. Wouldn't it?"


	107. Chapter 107: The Nursery

**Chapter 107: The Nursery**

**Author's Note**: Some fun for lady orca, who delightfully accused me of being a tease when she discovered there was a two-week gap between chapters 101 and 102. And there will be more tomorrow y'all. I'm almost positive that we will be checking in with Skates and Keeter too. However, for now, I have to go to bed. I'm sleepy! Goodnight friends!

* * *

Rabb Residence

Saturday, May 24, 2008

21:19 Hours

When Harm enters their bedroom, rubbing his freshly washed head with a towel, and finds it empty; he steps into the closet long enough to slip into jogging pants. He returns his damp towels to the towel rod and the master bath and on his way to the living room, he stops at his bedside table long enough to pick up his wrist watch. As he fastens it into place, he notices Mac's wedding band and engagement ring lying on the same small decorative tray where his watch had been. Puzzled that they should be here, he looks at them for a moment longer than necessary. She rarely takes them off; only on those infrequent occasions where she deems it prudent to do so. She must be up to something that she worries might damage to them.

"Mac." He calls quietly; not wanting to wake the sleeping girl at the other end of the house.

"In here." She answers just as quietly in that slightly distracted tone of voice she uses when the bulk of her attention is otherwise engaged.

He leaves the room and steps into the unadorned nursery next door. Surprised, he finds her bare footed, in shorts, and one of his old button down shirts that he no longer wears unless working on the house. Twelve inches away from the innermost wall, she faces it with a two handed grip on a long handled paint roller. With her left foot planted behind her right for support, she leans into the roller, pressing it firmly to the wall as she moves ceiling to floor and then back again in long patient strokes. Harm squints with mild confusion, but smiles and shakes his head as he makes his way into the room carefully stepping around her supplies so that he won't disturb either her setup or the rhythm she clearly already has going. One wall has already received its first coat of paint. When he puts his arms around her from behind, pulling her close, she leans into the embrace; momentarily pausing the upward trajectory of the paint roller.

"Hi Flyboy." She breathes sweetly when he finds his shirt open to reveal one of her jogging bras and pushes the collar aside; placing a light kiss in the hollow of her neck.

"Hi Ninja Girl. So, it looks like you finally made a decision about this room."

"I did." She rests her head on his shoulder and offers him a contented smile.

He plans a tender kiss on her lips before nodding his head. "I'm glad. I'm also confused. I thought you definitely were not going with the traditional pink or blue."

"I'm not. Well… Not exactly."

He chuckles, shakes his head, and squints. "Uh, unless I'm developing some bizarre new problem with my eyes, that sure looks like 'baby boy' blue to me.

"Ahem… You can relax Squid. There's nothing wrong with your eyes. You're just wrong; that's all! It's not 'baby boy' blue. It's sky blue."

He chuckles softly. "I hate to break it to Jarhead, but… Same difference. And, what happened, I thought you liked the idea of the pale yellow. Remember? Puppy dogs in airplanes? When you and Laura went off to the hardware store after our guests left this afternoon, I thought you were going to buy yellow paint."

Mac nods but then shrugs. "We changed our minds. Yellow walls don't work."

"Okay, why don't yellow walls work?"

"She hands him the paint roller; smiling with obvious excitement. "Look what we found!" She leaves her place on a well-positioned drop cloth and walks across the room to the place where she deposited a few shopping bags. After a few seconds of rummaging around inside a bag, she pulls out an extra-large stencil of a stearman, and then a slightly smaller one. "I couldn't decide what was size was best, so I got both. We can paint them yellow; like Sarah. But yellow biplanes won't show up well on yellow walls. Laura says, paint the walls blue like the sky." She retrieves, and holds up, a packet of cloud shaped stencils. "I asked Laura. I was going to find a stencil of the different dog, but she says it's okay with her if we put Snoopy in the nursery."

"What? You asked for permission?"

"Of course I did Harm. She loves Snoopy. It's kind of her thing. I wanted to make sure it wasn't going to be an issue; a place for some kind of weird sibling\cousin rivalry to start. You know. I liked Snoopy first, but then you were born. You stole him from me!"

Harm laughs loudly. "Mac I'm sure they'll find more important things to argue over."

"Shhh! Harm, don't wake Laura. And, yes they will. But that doesn't mean they won't argue over stupid stuff too. Don't you remember A.J. and Jimmy a few years ago, fighting over who liked the Power Rangers first?"

"Mac, you worry too much. A.J. and Jimmy are barely three years apart. Laura will be eight before the babies are even born. She's also extremely mature. I can't picture her, at ten, arguing with a couple of two year olds about Snoopy."

Mac nods. "Okay, maybe I am over-thinking it, but I've never done this before. I can't decide what to worry about, and what not to worry about. So, I asked her and she said it was okay. Actually, she said I wasn't allowed to pick a stencil of a different dog. It had to be Snoopy. So… We got Snoopy, and Woodstock too."

Harm flashes his grin as he leans her paint roller carefully against the wall before he walks over to stand beside her. "Snoopy and Woodstock, huh?"

"Also Laura's idea. You can't have Snoopy without Woodstock!" Mac declares; mimicking her niece to perfection.

"Of course not." Harm chuckles softly; remembering to stay quiet. "Snoopy without his sidekick? Criminal!" He kneels and looks over her shopping purchases. "What is the green paint for?"

"Grass. Around the baseboards… And dark blue for the ceiling. A nighttime sky, with daytime walls. Laura wants to put this trim on the wall right up there against the ceiling." Mac hands him a large packet of peel and stick border trim that depicts the solar system; planets, sun, comets, moon and stars. "She wants to know if we can find a way to paint stars on the ceiling. Maybe constellations; for Snoopy to navigate by."

Still grinning, because his wife's and his niece's enthusiasm are contagious, Harm nods. "Shouldn't be too hard. Do you want to paint the floor green too?"

Mac shakes her head adamantly. "It would be a shame to spoil this beautiful hardwood floor with paint. I'll find a couple of green area rugs to put on the floor in front of the cribs… I'm thinking that the cribs should probably be painted white. Especially since we're splashing so much color on the walls."

"When they outgrow this, are we going to be able to paint over all this? Don't you think it will bleed through?"

Mac shrugs. "We can put up a wall paper."

"Okay." He returns the stencils to the shopping bags. "Come here." He says to reaching for her and pulling her close once again. "Hold still. You've got paint on your face."

She waits for him to wipe the smudge away with the pad of his thumb and then she steals a tender kiss. When, mere seconds later, it threatens to burn out of control he allows himself to enjoy it briefly before gently pulling away. His voice husky with desire, he asks, "Are we painting… Or are we doing this?"

Mac rolls her lower lip in, biting down on it as she takes a moment to make her choice. "Tough decision Flyboy. Can we finish the base coat and then do this?" Her dark eyes glow with a heated invitation that only make the decision harder for him as well.

"That might be doable. But if you don't stop splattering paint all over yourself…" He glances down at various messy splotches of pale blue paint on her hands, legs, and even her feet. "I'm going to have to put you in the shower first, because… I am not making love to a smurf!"


	108. Chapter 108: Late Night Plans

**Chapter 108: Late Night Plans**

**Author's Note**: Hi Steamboat, Laura told me to tell you that… Yes, you are correct, she knows what Snoopy flies. She just thinks Uncle Harm's plane is cooler! Snoopy can borrow it!

And, hello Annie. I love your new avatar. So does Laura!

* * *

Rabb Residence

Sunday, May 25, 2008

03:37 Hours

Harm wakes to find himself alone. Reaching over, he lays a palm flat against her side of the bed. When he finds it still warm, he knows she hasn't been gone long. There's no light in the bathroom. She's not there. For a moment, he lies perfectly still; listening to the sounds of the house. The quiet rattle of the refrigerator compressor in the next room. The soft swish of the ceiling fan overhead. The faint, nearly indiscernible, sound of ocean waves meeting the shore outside. He can't hear her wandering about which is nothing unusual; the woman moves like the cat. He gets out of bed long enough to go to the bathroom and then, standing in the bathroom doorway looking at the rumpled sheets on their bed, he debates whether or not to slip into his boxers and go in search of his bunk mate.

Before he can make up his mind, she arrives on silent feet, hair flowing loose down her back and wearing nothing except for his worn out paint stained shirt. While he slips back under the blankets, she moves to her desk and sets a small tray down before picking up a bowl and spoon and walking over to stand near the window. Silhouetted in moonlight reflecting off the surface of the ocean, she stands at the window in the dark and watches the waves tumble in for a long moment while she feeds herself some late night repast. He lets her; content to silently marvel at the sight of her. Somehow… They finally got here.

"Are you hungry?"

Her barely audible question is a tender surprise. He wasn't aware that she saw him slip back into bed. In fact, he's sure she didn't. Nonetheless, she apparently knows he's awake.

He nods and, although she's not looking at him, she responds. "I brought you some cheese and crackers. You can have some of my gumbo too. I'll share, but you'll have to eat around the chicken and sausage."

He grins. "So what else is new?"

After returning her bowl to the tray, she picks it up and returns to her side of the bed, where she stands momentarily and waits for him to move the blankets aside for her. She hands over the tray before settling in, rearranging pillows and blankets, fussing about until she's comfortable. While he watches her, he opens the small package of Ritz crackers, and spreads a soft blended cream cheese over one before turning it upside down and popping into his mouth and then helping himself to a carefully selected meat-free spoonful from her bowl; a process that is aided significantly when she reaches over and quietly flicks on the bedside lamp at its lowest possible setting. After two bites, he hands the bowl back to her; shaking his head.

She smiles eager to receive the bowl again but glances at him with mild concern. "Don't like it. You can probably taste the sausage even without biting into it. Do you want me to go heat up a bowl from the other pot?"

He shakes his head. "I wouldn't eat that one either. A spoonful or two is fine, but I don't see how you can eat a bowlful of food that spicy this late at night. A bowl that size would give me nightmares."

She tilts her head to the side and looks at him as though she's seeing something new for the very first time.

"What?"

"Late night spicy food gives you nightmares?"

"Not so much nightmares." He shrugs. "As just, really strange dreams. It doesn't give you strange dreams?"

It's her turn to shrug. "Harm, all my dreams are strange. And before you suggest that maybe they wouldn't be if I stopped eating stuff like this at bedtime, I don't eat like this every night. My dreams are strange, because my life is strange. Well… Not so much anymore, but it used to be wicked strange."

Because he knows she wants one, he spreads cheese on a cracker and hands it over without being asked, then he kisses the side of her head as he says, "I'm glad things are less strange."

As she munches on the cracker, she nods and sighs happily. "So am I. How did we get here Harm?"

He chuckles softly. "I was just wondering the same thing Sarah. We're finally here. If memory serves correctly, we decided to give ourselves, and each other, a break. We decided to get out of our own way."

"Thank God!" She breathes a dramatic sigh of relief before changing the subject. "Did you find a moment to talk to Skates today? Is she going to let us help her out?"

He lifts one shoulder in a shrug as he nods hesitantly. I think so. She was surprised, grateful… and resistant, but I'm pretty sure she'll come around. Keeter caught the tail end of the conversation. He'll help nudge her in the right direction."

"Did you ask him to?"

Harm shakes his head. "Don't have to ask. Besides, even without Keeter's help, Skates will come around. She offered to help us without expecting anything in return, and in her mind, her aunt's well-being is her responsibility. She's hesitant to accept because she feels like the duty is hers alone, but she's much too practical to persist for long. Eventually, she'll decide that she shouldn't deny her aunt any measure of comfort that can be provided just because of her own sense of obligation. I asked her not to say no right away… To give it some time and think it over. She promised she would."

"So now what? We just wait?" Mac asks before helping herself to another bite.

Harm laughs quietly. "I know patience isn't your strong suit Marine… But yes… We wait. It won't take long." He assures in response to her scowl.

"it wouldn't be yours either if you were literally aware of every second that ticked by. Well… Almost every second." She offers him a satisfied smile. "My clock's on the fritz again!"

He flashes his grin. "I'm not surprised. Good God, you're a messy painter. The walls look good Mac, but I think you got as much paint on you as you did on them. Though, I'm not complaining, trying to wash all that paint off of you was fun."

She giggles with seductive delight. "Yeah, and I'm not finished painting yet either."

Still smiling, he nods. "I'll work upstairs. You paint the nursery. At the end of the day, I get to get in the shower and wash all the paint off of you. Works for me!"

"How long do you think it will take to finish upstairs. Can we have it done before July when the kids come to visit?"

He shimmies his head side to side. "Maybe. Probably. If we spend every weekend until then at home working on it. Then, when you take the twins back, you can take pictures of the nursery to show Harriett. She'd like that."

Nodding, Mac waits for him to put half a cracker in his mouth, and then she pulls his arm around her; tucking herself in against his ribs before she returns her attention to her bowl. "Harm, what are we going to do about Laura? Before, when I thought my sister was avoiding me, I thought maybe I was being a little paranoid. But the longer it goes on, the more convinced I am. I don't want to just send the paperwork asking her to relinquish custody via her lawyer. But, as much as I don't want to, I'm getting ready to. It's ridiculous Harm! I really do think she's getting into fights on purpose just to get her visitation privileges revoked. She's getting herself thrown in the hole just to avoid seeing me."

"You can't think of a way around it?"

"Well… I can think of one way… Two ways actually. The first way is to just pack Laura up and disappear before Casey gets out of prison. But… That would land us in a whole bunch of trouble with the Navy, the Marine Corps, the law, pretty much with every person we know… Plus, I really like what we've got going here. I don't want to leave all this. I really, really don't want to leave your mom and Frank behind. Aside from the fact that it would break Laura's heart, which is more than enough reason not to do it, I like having parental figures in my life who actually care more about me than they do about themselves. It's weird! But it's good!"

He hugs her, squeezing her shoulders as he laughs at her. "I know you don't like it when anybody calls her Mini-Mac, but sometimes you really are just a taller, slightly older version of her."

"Harm, I don't mind being an older version of her. I just don't want her being a younger version of me. All the crap that I had to go through to get here. I don't want that for her. She's had too much already."

Finished with his snack, Harm moves the tray to his bedside table because Mac is content to cradle her bowl in the palm of one hand. "So, what is option number two. I hope it's one that doesn't involve the two of us spending life on the run with Laura in tow."

"Well… If you're game Flyboy… I think there's a way to trick her into showing up for visitation. At least, the next time she has visitation privileges."

"If I'm game? Why do I have to be on board?"

"Because I wanna use you as bait!" She whispers mysteriously.

Harm raises an eyebrow. "Come again."

"Look… If I'm paranoid, then I'm paranoid. But, if I'm right, and she really is getting into trouble just to avoid seeing me, then maybe we should stop telling her I'm the one who's coming to visit."

"Okay, but why me I mean, what makes you think she's going to show up for me if you won't show up for you?"

Mac gives him a look strongly reminiscent of the one that Laura frequently gives Keeter. As if it should be obvious, she explains, "You have a Y chromosome."

"And?"

"And I don't!" She chuckles.

"Thank goodness!" He exclaims quietly.

With spoon midair between the bowl and her mouth, she pauses to look at the portion of his naked body that isn't concealed beneath the blankets. Smiling, in response to his bare chest, she raises an eyebrow suggestively. "You're also… very pleasant to look at."

"Not that I'm not pleased as hell you think so Mac, but what does that have to do with your sister?"

"Harm…" She swallows a spoonful before she gives him another hard look; her eyes asking, "You really don't get this?" as her mouth says, "My sister may pass on the opportunity to visit with me, but her entire life is ruled by her libido. She's not likely to pass on the opportunity to visit with you. Especially if she doesn't know that I'll be tagging along. If she thinks she has a chance to be alone with you… Well… As alone as she can be behind bars…" Mac leaves the rest hanging in the air unsaid.

Thinking surely, she must be wrong, he squints for half a second and then frowns in revulsion, because he knows she's not. Still, he objects. "I'm your husband!"

"That's not a moral dilemma for my sister Harm. If that were the sort of thing that would give her pause, then introducing her daughter to the dregs of male society might also be an issue for her. Clearly it's not."

He can't even manage his grin. The thought is just too revolting. "So, I'm the honey in the trap?"

Mac places a tender kiss on his jaw just south of his ear. "I know you don't like the idea. I know it's disgusting, but…" She offers him a confident smile. "I think you could serve excellently in that capacity."

"Yeah, yeah! You can stop trying to butter me up Jarhead. Just thinking about your sister flirting with me makes me wanna take a bath… but I'll do it… For Laura."

She leaves his embrace long enough to set her bowl down on her night stand. Snuggling close once again, she runs a tender hand down his chest; her touch igniting the embers of passion when she brings her fingertips to rest low on his abdomen. "Thank you." She whispers. "I promise, after we go see her, I'll make it up to you."

Harm looks into her dark eyes; desire rising in his own. "After? What about now?"

"I might be agreeable." She flirts, "It depends on what you have in mind Flyboy."

Pulling one of the pillows out from behind her back and easing her down on the bed, he smiles. "Well, you could start by laying down Sarah."


	109. Chapter 109: Someone's Dad

**Chapter 109: Someone's Dad**

**Author's Note: **I had plans for this chapter to be even longer than it is. However, the battery in my headset is dying. Time to recharge. More tomorrow. Good night friends.

* * *

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Eddie V's Prime Steakhouse and Grill

San Diego, California

18:09 HRS

"Just one?" The perky blonde hostess asks, choosing a single menu from the rack near the entryway. When he removes his sunglasses and flashes his best smile, she offers one of her own. "Ahh… It's you again. She's already here."

"Yeah, I was afraid of that. How late am I?"

"Not too. She's only been here about ten minutes. That's probably okay, it gives her enough time to miss you, but not enough time to get worried, or ticked off."

He takes the offered menu from her, and tries hopefully. "So what you're saying is… I timed it just right?"

The hostess laughs merrily and asks a single question. "Iced tea or beer?" She walks with him until he catches sight of his date. As she turns to make her way to the kitchen, Jack Keeter waves to Elizabeth Hawkes. Stepping her way, he answers the hostess over his shoulder. "Beer, thanks."

"You got it, Hon."

Before sliding into the seat opposite her, Keeter smiles, raises an inquiring eyebrow, and waiting for Skates to nod her consent before dropping a light kiss on her lips. "Somebody's not nauseous."

"Somebody's late. Did the hostess just call you hon… as in honey?

"Yeah, I guess she did." He shrugs wholly unconcerned.

Skates chuckles quietly. "It's official; we spend entirely too much time in this place. We've become regulars."

He winks and reaches for her hand, which she gladly offers. "Well… If someone could tolerate the smell of any food other than seafood without retching…"

"Hey!" She objects. "I'll have you know; I've only puked once today!"

"A day with minimal regurgitation? Success! We should celebrate! Dessert? Cup of coffee?"

"Whoa… Slow down big fella. Dessert maybe. We'll see, but do not… under fear for your life… mention the 'C' word again! That stuff is vile!"

His blue eyes twinkle merrily as he laughs. "Uh oh, what? The tadpole doesn't like cof…. Uh sorry… Java…"

"Umm, no the baby does not like… and will you please stop calling her tadpole? One of these days, you're going to slip up and do that in front of her mother. I don't imagine the Marine's response will be a favorable one. The fact that the kid doesn't like coffee will probably be enough to seriously depress her. Why are you late? You're in a good mood, and you haven't stop smiling since you got here. I know that look. You were either, with a woman or flying.

"How do you know the tadpole is a girl?" When she rolls her eyes and grimaces, he gestures to the room around them. "It's okay. The Marine's not here."

"I don't know for sure. It just seems right." She shrugs. "And nice change of subject… Now answer me."

Because it's too late to think of a plausible way around it without lying to her, he answers honestly. "Both actually. Since you're grounded, I wasn't going to tell you. Didn't mean to be late. I apologize. Got stuck up there with a chatty RIO. She could not stop talking. I just wanted to check the plane out, make sure she was flying good, and maybe enjoy a few quiet minutes of airtime. Quiet was not possible for the first half of the flight. Somewhere along the way, she informed me that I smell like Christmas. Then she told me that she hates Christmas."

Skates giggles discreetly as she sips iced tea. "First, you don't have to avoid telling me you got the chance for some airtime just because I'm not flying. Second, you don't smell like Christmas. You do smell very faintly of spearmint… And lastly, who hates Christmas? There is something very seriously wrong with that woman!"

"I know, but I was nice enough to hold my tongue and not say so. I did explain to her that my girlfriend is pregnant and that oatmeal mint shaving cream is one of the very few fragrances you're able to tolerate at the moment. I have no idea why, but after that, she was conspicuously quiet."

She offers him a sweet smile that he doesn't quite know how to read. "What?"

"She liked you. She's probably one of those women who gets chatty when she's nervous because she finds a man attractive. You warned her off… albeit unintentionally.

He squints. "Huh? How'd I do that?"

She shakes her head; quietly laughing at him. "You told her that your girlfriend is pregnant… I'm guessing you didn't explain the surrogacy part of it."

He shakes his head. "No, why would I? It's none of her busin…" He grins; a trace of shock rising in his blue eyes. "She thinks you and I are…"

Nodding; Skates hums in the affirmative. "Umm hmm… She thinks you're off the market. Even worse; she thinks you're off the market and about to be someone's dad."

Keeter shakes his head. "Huh… Imagine that…"

* * *

Monday, June 16, 2008

San Diego, JLSO

Office of Colonel Sarah Mackenzie-Rabb

15:32 HRS

"Maybe if we move tomorrow's staff meeting from 08:00 to 09:00 Colonel?"

"That should work nicely Coates, thank you. We'll get it all done somehow. Anything else?"

"Yes Ma'am. You asked me to remind you that I'll be needing the Drake file."

"Oh that's right!" Mac leaves her desk headed for a file cabinet across the room and it's rather impossible for Petty Officer Coates not to notice the stiffness in her stride.

"Ma'am, forgive me for asking, but are you alright?"

Trying, without much success to ignore the nagging ache in the small of her back, Mac forces a brittle smile as she allows her fingers to walk through the tabs of file folders in a top drawer. "I'm fine." She lies. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, again… forgive me Ma'am… but you're a bit stiff, and a little off your game. I'm fairly sure this is the Drake file over here, on the corner of your desk."

Turning, Mac eyes the file folder lying haphazardly on top of a stack of paperwork in her outbox. Sighing in frustration, she closes the file cabinet door with a little more force than necessary. She starts across the room again, only to stop and stand stock still in the center where she closes her eyes; willing herself to mentally shut out the rising tide of pain that is taking up residence just above her pelvis.

The junior officer leaves her seat; her posture taunt with concern. "Ma'am?" She places a gentle hand on her commanding officer shoulder.

Mac covers her mouth and nose with the palm of one hand and gouges the knuckles of the other hand deep into the small of her back as she whispers hoarsely. "Close the door Jen."

With a task at hand, and a direction in mind, the younger woman springs into action. Not only closing the door, but quickly drawing the blinds as well so that staff outside the office won't be able to peer in through the windows casually. Returning to her side, Jen says quietly, "it's done. You have some privacy. What's wrong? What can I do Colonel?"

Mac forces herself to open her eyes and stubbornly return to her seat before she attempts to smile for the petty officer's benefit, whom is stunned to find the Marine's eyes shimmering brightly with unshed tears. "it's my damned uterus…" She laughs harshly. "One more specifically, my Endometriosis. It's been on a tear for the last three or four days." She sighs in disgust.

"Oh… I didn't realize it could be this bad." She hesitates before asking gently, "I thought you were going to have something done about that?"

"I was. I am. I wanted to finish the nursery before I pulled the trigger on surgery. I was getting close too, but this is ridiculous! I shouldn't have waited so long! But… I was feeling okay. So…"

"So you waited."

"Like an idiot." She mentally and verbally kicks herself.

"Not like an idiot, Ma'am. Like a mom. You're trying to adopt Laura. You have two babies on the way. You have a husband you're crazy about. You have an entire office depending on you. You have people in your life whose well-being is more important to you than your own. That's what moms do. Well… at least the good ones anyway."

Mac grimaces with disgust. "Apparently to the point of self-detriment. Enough! I'm not going to be available to take care of anyone else, if I don't first take care of myself. Time to be just a little bit selfish… for the good of all."

Jennifer Coates smiles. "How can I help?"

"Oh no." She closes her eyes again and wills at least some modicum of command presence back into her voice. "I appreciate the offer Coates, but this is not military business. I'll handle this. Let me suffer. It's my own fault anyway for not dealing with it sooner."

When she realizes that the room has fallen silent Mac opens her eyes again to find her junior officer standing on the other side of her desk with her hands on her hips and a faint but recognizable glimmer of challenge in her eyes. Mac raises a curious eyebrow.

"It may be your own fault Ma'am. But you'll suffer enough for it without me, or anyone else, being crass enough to say so. So… With all due respect… What can I do!?"

Mac shakes her head as she pinches the bridge of her nose. She picks up an ink pen, scrawls a bit of information on a post-it note, tears it from the pad, and repeats the process on a second square of yellow paper. She hands over both. Call my doctor's office. If you can't get Dr. Rebecca Thayer on the phone, then get her nurse; Marisol. Let me talk to whichever you get. While I'm doing that, call the Montage. Talk to Trish Burnett; not one of her assistants. Speak directly with her. It's Monday; not her usual day to take Laura to therapy, but find out if she can. If not, do not push her. I will do it myself. If I can't, Laura is doing well enough that it won't kill her, or cause a horrible setback, if she misses one day of therapy." She opens her top desk drawer, and when she finds it empty, she pitches the useless bottle of pain reliever into the trash in disgust and agitation. "Find me something for pain; aspirin, ibuprofen, a heating pad, a heat wrap, or at the very least, a sledgehammer! I don't care which."

Coates squints, and then raises an eyebrow. "A sledgehammer?"

"To hit me over the head with. Put me out of my misery."

"I'm pretty sure I can do better than that. Shall I call the captain?"

"Absolutely not! He's at work. He's got enough going on in his office without worrying about what going on in my… In mine."

"It's a safe bet that's true Ma'am, but I'm pretty sure he would want to know."

Mac nods. "Yes… and you will leave that to me. I will talk to my husband myself, when I get home. I know you feel a certain loyalty toward him, and I can appreciate that. I can even commend it. However, I repeat, do not call the captain! Is that clear?"

Having received her marching orders, Coates stands at attention briefly and then departs with a crisp "Aye, aye Colonel."

* * *

Friday, June 20, 2008

Scripps Memorial Hospital

La Jolla

14:42 HRS

Tired of sitting on a cheap uncomfortable vinyl sofa, Harm stands up and stretches his back as he begins to prowl aimlessly in the small crowded waiting room. When the tired brunette in the nearest chair realizes just how tall he is, she offers him a smile. One he barely notices, but he nods anyway.

The doctor said it would be a brief surgery. What's taking so long?" He wonders. He looks at his watch. What time did they start? He can't remember. Damn it! He should've paid better attention.

"Relax Son. She's fine. It won't be much longer. Any time now."

He turns, offering his mother a smile. "I'm sorry. Did you say something Mom?"

Trish smiles patiently and tucks a scrap of paper between the pages of a book to mark her place before she closes it. "I said, relax. Take a deep breath. She's fine. It's just a routine surgery. Dr. Thayer will be here any time now to confirm. Sit back down before you wear out the linoleum."

Harm nods derisively. "It's just a routine surgery…" He stops pacing and leans against the wall; resting the sole of one shoe just above the baseboard. "A fact that is belied by the 2-inch-thick stack of paperwork we had to read through and sign, releasing the hospital from all liability in the event of her unanticipated death."

Trish tries not to, but when she can't help but chuckle quietly, she covers her mouth with the fingertips of one hand. "Goodness! Don't think about that now. You'll drive yourself insane son. Try to focus on how much better she's going to feel after she recovers from surgery."

"I can focus on that after she wakes up. Right now, that's all I want, just for her to wake up. I guess I'm not very good at this."

She eyes him with understanding. "No you're not… But it's understandable. I was a wreck when they took Frank's gallbladder out. Not exactly the same thing, but… You'll get through. So will she. It won't be much long…"

She smiles when someone familiar in dark blue scrubs opens the door to the waiting room and walks through wearing a scrub cap with brightly colored ferris wheels printed on it. Before Trish is fully on her feet, Harm crosses the small room.

Adequately aware that she would be meeting with anxious loved ones, Dr. Rebecca Thayer smiles easily and holds up a hand to stop the onslaught of questions she knows is coming. "She's fine. It went well. Looks good. It looks really good. I was able to do it just the way we talked about. Not a single problem. As far as patients go, she's a surgical rock star."

"No more pain. No more Endometriosis." Harm inquires; feeling significantly less anxious.

Thayer glances and all the other faces in the room and nods her head toward the door. "Let's step into the hall for a bit more privacy; shall we?"

She holds the door open for them and Harm waits for his mother to precede him out into the corridor beyond the waiting room. Once the door is fully closed behind them, she says quietly, "She'll have some pain associated with surgery, but once her recovery is complete she should be comfortable. I'm fairly certain I got it all. Probably 90% of the scar tissue was still in the uterus. That's gone now, but she'll keep her ovaries; like she wants. They still look healthy. It is possible that we may have to go back in at a later date and remove everything if problems recur, but I'm very optimistic… and she'll have plenty of time to rest up and recuperate before those babies get here."

"Two of our four godchildren are supposed to be arriving for a week-long visit on the 26th of next month. The following week, their two younger siblings will take their place. Will that be too much too soon? Do we need to postpone their visit until August?"

The doctor considers her next words carefully before speaking. "it's a possibility, but I think it's an unlikely one. Sarah's strong. I think she'll bounce back quickly. However, even though I expect she'll be ready a month from now; I'm going to tentatively say that she shouldn't pick up anything, or anyone, heavier than ten pounds for the next six weeks. Depending on how she heals, I will probably shorten that timeframe… a bit. As long as she takes it easy. I expect she'll be shipshape and back to her marine-green self in no time."

"Can I see her. Just for a minute, please."

The woman doctor shakes her head. "She'll be in recovery for the next 2 hours. After that, if there are no complications… and I'm not expecting any, we will move her back to her room. You can see her then. She probably won't even be awake yet."

Harm rubs his hand over the back of his neck and tries an anxious version of his smile. "I'm not good as this waiting thing. I feel like I'm coming out of my skin. Doctor, that woman is my anchor in life. Are you sure I can't talk you out of just 60 seconds?"

The blonde doctor smiles, and then rolls her eyes in response to her own wavering resolve. Feeling like a pushover, she says, "I'll give you 30… and not a nanosecond more, Sailor. Come with me."

Eager to see his Marine with his own eyes, because he won't really believe that she's alright until he does, he falls into step with the woman; glancing back over his shoulder at his mother with a look of inquiry.

She smiles. "You go on. I'll wait here."

He nods and Trish stands in the corridor, watching them go, only returning to the waiting room once her son is out of sight.

A long minute later the doctor. stands with her back against an open door watching as the tall aviator, turned lawyer, tenderly brushes hair away from his sleeping wife's face. When he reaches into the right hand pocket of his trousers and removes her wedding rings and attempts to place them back on her hand, the physician says quietly, "Please don't do that. One of the reasons we ask patients to take jewelry off before going into surgery is so that there's no risk it will come up missing while the patient is unconscious."

Harm glances down at the rings in his hand. Knowing Mac would be devastated if they were lost, he nods and slips them back into his pocket for safekeeping. Instead, he takes his wristwatch off and slips it onto his wife's much smaller wrist. "I don't care if anybody steals my watch. If they don't, she'll know I was here before she was awake. That's all I want. She just needs to know I was here. Is it really going to be hours before she opens her eyes?"

Rebecca Thayer nods patiently. "At least one; probably a good bit longer. Even when she does wake up, she'll be groggy for a while. A bit out of it."

"But you're sure she's okay?"

"I'm confident." She smiles with understanding, and then turns her eyes to the floor; studying her walking shoes, giving him as much privacy as she can.

Harm leans over, brushes a light kiss against his wife's forehead and whispers, "I'll be right back Ninja Girl." He watches her sleep for a few seconds longer. Just as the doctor. glances pointedly at the clock on wall, Harm squeezes his wife's hand gently and then forces himself to step away.

Out in the hallway once more, he says in a whisper, "Thank you… For everything."

Smiling, she says, "it's my pleasure."

Once back in the waiting room, he smiles at his mother as he picks up his jacket and drapes it loosely over his arm; patting the pocket to make certain he still has what he needs.

"Well, you certainly look better than you did a few minutes ago, darling."

Harm nods. "She's fine. She's out cold. She rarely ever looks that peaceful. She didn't even know I was there. The doctor says it's more than likely she'll be out for a few hours. Will you stay here with her, just in case? Call me if she wakes up? I promise I'll bring you a decent cup of coffee back."

Trish nods. "Of course darling. You're going somewhere?"

He nods again. "I can't sit around here waiting for her to wake up. I'll drive everybody crazy. Besides, there is something that needs to be taken care of."

"But now?"

"it will give me something to do. I think I can accomplish it before she wakes up... and it will make her happy."

More curious than annoyed by the fact that he's being deliberately cryptic, Trish raises an eyebrow and waits patiently.

Harm sighs and quietly explains. "Mac and I've been trying with no success to deliver the paperwork to Casey asking her to relinquish her rights to Laura. Mac has said, more than once that she feels like her sister is deliberately avoiding her. I even tried a few weeks ago to go visit in Mac's stead. She thought that would work. It didn't. Whatever else Cassandra O'Hara is, she was smart enough to see through the ruse. She wouldn't even see me."

"So what's different today?"

"Today, she knows her sister is in surgery. If I show up anyway, it might alarm her… enough to at least get her to talk to me. If not, we will send the paperwork via her lawyer and be done with it. I'm tired of this. It's time for it to stop."

Trish shakes her head in confusion. "I don't understand her. You'd think she would want visitors; locked away in a cage… Anything to stay connected to the outside world."

"Even though Casey hasn't said so, I have a feeling Mac knows what she's holding out for. Mac seems to think she's trying, by her refusal to see us, to force us to bring Laura to visit. Laura doesn't want to go. She's afraid to. The judge, and Laura's caseworker, both agree that we don't have to take her if she doesn't want to go. They don't seem to think that forcing her would do her any good. Psychologically, it could do a whole lot more damage than good. And, legally or not, that girl is in my care. If Mac is right, then it's repugnant the way Casey wants to use Laura like a common bargaining chip. I'm going to go try... one more time... to take care of this the civil way; the right way. If we're going to go through with this adoption, then it's time I start acting like someone's dad."


	110. Chapter 110: Casey

**Chapter 110: Casey**

**Author's Note: **I feel fortunate to be able to say that the amount of time I have spent visiting people in prison has been minuscule in my life thus far. Although I consider that a blessing, I'm sure that my lack of experience is not going to benefit me while writing this chapter. Although I have visited a few people, only one experience is prominent in my mind and there isn't a lot of physical detail to go with the memory. Mostly, what I remember are conflicting desires. More specifically, my overwhelming desire to see someone I spent a great deal of my childhood with vs. my desire to flee and escape that sad, oppressive place the very instant I crossed the threshold. I was there for less than an hour, and I have no idea how some people willfully choose to do things that keep them in such places for most of their adult lives. The very instant I was in, I wanted out. I haven't been inside another prison since that day many years ago. The only other emotion I remember clearly is the one I experienced when looking at this sweet person I grew up with, and not recognizing him until he spoke my name. Until he did, my eyes slid right passed him. I would not have recognized him at all had our paths crossed in public. Prison changed him, as I'm certain it does every person who takes up residency in one. Once I realized that he was standing, very nearly, right in front of me, I wanted to curl into a ball and cry; but I couldn't. He did not need to see that. So, I spend our time together waging war with myself trying to make our brief visit as pleasant as possible for his sake. Although we did not acknowledge it, he knew this and did his best to do the same for me. The man I went to see was nothing like Casey O' Hara. In fact, if he were reading this story today, I know he would have a few choice words to say about Laura's mother. I can hear them just as clearly as if he were sitting right beside me at this moment. Additionally, I have no idea how the women's facility in Corona is run, or what it looks like; inside or out. I have no desire to research it. The thought alone depresses me. Any descriptive information provided in this chapter regarding the prison itself is borrowed from my dark, and thankfully few, memories of the men's prison in Parchmen, Mississippi. Please keep that in mind as you read.

* * *

Correctional Institution for Women

Corona, California

Friday, June 20, 2008

15:46 HRS

Used to visiting clients in the brig, Harm has no idea why, but this vast visitation room with its cinder block walls and rough concrete floors that are both painted a nondescript putty color, makes him feel slightly claustrophobic even before other visitors began to crowd in. In warmer weather, Harm has no doubt that the walls sweat and the temperature in this place becomes oppressive. It's a mild day outside with temperatures in the mid-seventies, and this room is already uncomfortably sticky. A fact not aided by the unpleasant odor. The place smells like stale air, sweaty gym socks, old sneakers, and the kind of cheap disinfectant that is bought in bulk. The room is divided, floor to ceiling, by a thick Plexiglas wall that is encased on both sides with a thick wire reminiscent of chain link fencing. There are no clearly defined visiting stations, no partitions that provide a minimal amount of privacy. There are no telephones mounted against the divider wall to aid in speaking directly to one person. Visitors simply stand on one side of the wall; prisoners on the other and they talk; doing a kind of verbal battle to be heard over every other talking person in the room. There are only a very few plastic chairs with metal legs available against one wall on the visitor's side. Harm snags one for himself, but then offers it to the heavyset woman directly on his left. She walks with a cane and does not appear to be too stable on her feet. She needs it more than he does and offers him a quiet, but heartfelt, thank you in return for the kindness. He stands and waits for prisoners to begin entering on the other side of the room.

He's let it be known that he's here to see Cassandra O'Hara. Now, he must wait to see if she will choose to grace him with her presence. He wonders what her mood will be like. Part of him hopes that she will show up, the other part wishes he hadn't even bothered to come. That half of his brain argues that he shouldn't have. He should be sitting beside his wife's hospital bed waiting for her to open her eyes and call him squid. Yes, that would be infinitely better than standing here, in this miserably large, dank, smelly room, watching strangers in red prison issue clothing file in on the other side of the room; most of them wearing hopeful expressions as they search for familiar visitors.

"Well? Aren't you even going to say hello?"

Harm blinks twice; stunned to realize that the woman standing directly in front of him on the other side of the Plexiglas and wire partition is the one he came to see. Her face is bruised, the sickly yellow and gray of old contusions. Her bottom lip is badly split, and her left arm is in a sling. She isn't any taller, but appears that way because the high-starch, low quality prison diet has made her soft; doughy around the middle. She's maybe 15 pounds heavier which would look good on her if it were it more evenly dispersed over her body and her muscles hadn't begun to atrophy thanks to prison's sedentary lifestyle. Instead most of her weight gain is gathered and sagging around her belly. The skin between the index and middle fingers of her right hand is stained yellow by nicotine. Her once shoulder length hair which, outside of prison, was a harsh bleached blonde has given way to its natural brunette. It was once probably close to the same shade as Mac's, but the color is somehow duller; less healthy and vibrant. Someone, probably a prison hairdresser, has done a very poor job of chopping it off short. Most likely to remove evidence of the dye job, and therefore, prevent it from looking even worse when her natural color began to show. Her eyes are sunken and the dark circles underneath tell of poor sleep. Her once prominent and flattering cheek bones now appear gaunt and harsh and the eyes that smiled and flirted with him on the day of Laura's placement hearing are now unmistakably hostile and bored all of the same time.

"Hello Casey." He offers simply.

"Whatever. You gonna tell me why you're here; or just stand there and gawk? I thought Sarah was having surgery today."

"She did. It's over. She's fine."

Casey shrugs. Obviously, her sister's health is of no concern to her.

Harm thinks of his unborn children and how, each week, both he and Mac eagerly read every single word of the doctors' progress reports on their babies' growth and development. They hungrily read and re-read these reports as if they are a lifeline; because they are. They simply want to know everything there is to know about their children. So he shares what he feels will be appreciated and cherished information. "Laura's doing well too. She's getting stronger, and doing well in school. Her grades are good. I gave one of the guards a new picture of her. They'll bring it to you. She's having a growth spurt; getting taller. Last week, we talked to her therapist about getting her a new walker. It won't be long before the old one is too short for her."

"You guys are spending too much money on her. New shoes, new braces, new walker, and every time Sarah brings me a new picture, she's got on new clothes. You're going to ruin her, spoil her rotten, if you haven't already. And, I'd told Sarah not to put her in those different classes. I don't want older kids picking on her… And who's going to help her do homework if she gets smarter than me? I don't need some little smart aleck nerd kid."

Harm nods, but keeps his next thoughts to himself. She told Mac the same thing. She didn't want older, bigger kids picking on Laura. That wasn't the reason. She just admitted she doesn't want Laura to be smarter than her… Well… It's too late. Harm muses silently. She's already smarter than you. He also knows it's not because she's concerned about the girl's homework getting done either. According to the reports of her former teachers, Laura rarely turned in homework before coming to live with Mac. Instead, what he says out loud is, "Laura's thriving in her classes; all of them. No one is picking on her. Nearly everyone that knows her loves her. She makes friends easily."

"If she's doing so great, why are you here? What's the problem? Have you guys had all the fun you want with her? Let me guess… you want a little more time to be newlyweds without a kid underfoot? Or maybe you're going to be too busy now that you have your own babies on the way?"

Harm wills himself not to give in to the anger he feels rising in his chest. "No… I'm not here because we want the pawn her off on someone else. We wouldn't do that to Laura. We're not that selfish. Quite the opposite in fact, I'm here because we want to keep her. We want to adopt her Casey."

Harm watches as her mouth falls open in shock. For a long moment she says nothing and then finally she blurts, "Adopt Laura? Why would anyone want to adopt Laura?"

Harm jams his hands into his pockets to keep from balling them into fists. "We want to adopt her because we love her and because, quite frankly, it's obvious that you don't."

Casey squints. "You don't think I love her?"

"No. No I don't think so. If you did, you wouldn't need to ask why anyone would want to adopt her."

"She's my daughter!" Casey hisses belligerently.

"Yes, I know. To you, she's 'your' daughter." Harm paraphrases stressing the possessive pronoun. "To you, she's a possession… Something that belongs to you."

"Damn straight! She's mine! Or at least she was, before you two got a hold on her. She barely talks to me. She won't come see me. You've got her so brainwashed. By the time I get out of here, she'll be ruined. Mom, buy me this! Mom, I need that! Mom, I need new shoes. Or new clothes, or more therapy."

Harm ignores her tirade with some effort and continues, "To us, she's Laura. She's a person. She's a gift. She is not an object to be controlled, manipulated or used to make us feel better about ourselves. We want to adopt her. We want to raise her as part of our family. You won't have to worry about homework, classes, shoes, walkers, braces, new clothes, food, or anything else."

Casey continues as if she hasn't heard anything he just said. "Damn kid was expensive before. Now she'll be unbearable! Mom, stop yelling! Mom, I'm hungry. Feed me!"

"So give her to us. We'd love to worry about all that, and then some!"

"Don't be ridiculous! Why would I do that? What's in it for me? You get Laura… What do I get?"

Reasoning with this woman is pointless! She clearly only understands the world as it relates directly to her, or in terms of what it has to offer her. Bile churns and Harm's gag reflex is nearly triggered when he asks the question, "What do you want?"


	111. Chapter 111: Casey's Price

**Chapter 111: Casey's Price**

**Author's Note: **Cnewcumet, Just because a person walks with a cane does not necessarily mean they are elderly as you supposed in your last review, but I want to thank you anyway. I hadn't given any thought to using the woman as a witness, but what a marvelous idea! Credit for that, and my appreciation, go to you.

The previous chapter had more than the usual amount of feedback. Thank you all for reading, and for your comments. It seems as though no one has any empathy for Laura's mother. Not that I blame you, I confess, I have none either. I guess Casey is behind the eight ball.

* * *

Correctional Institute for Women

Corona California

Friday, June 20, 2008

16:01 HRS

This is how it feels to be violated; isn't it? As Harm steps beyond the prison walls and lifts his face to the warm California sun, he feels as though each and every inch of him, all 76 of them, have been soiled; every orifice, every pore in his skin, forever tainted. If he ever manages to wash away the stench of this place, if he lives long enough to get so old that he forgets a certain Marine's name, he knows that some residue of the stain Cassandra O'Hara has visited upon his mind today will still be present.

How reprehensible, how vile, self-serving, and disgusting, how unforgivable can one person be?

In the back of his mind he hears footsteps approaching from behind. Halfway to his car, a polite Irish voice says, "Excuse me sir?"

He just wants to leave. He just wants to get away from this place. Having no desire to talk to anyone, he turns, scowling, to face the full-figured woman in her late forties who had stood immediately to his left in the visitation room. She struggles to catch up with him; doing the best she can with her cane and her much shorter legs. Her red hair is gracefully streaked with gray, and she doesn't come anywhere close to topping 5 feet 6 inches tall. Something about the set of her mouth and the determination clearly visible in her eyes gives her a maternal air. Yes, she's definitely someone's mother.

Mindful of traffic around them, he steps out of the path of a slowly passing vehicle and then remains still; allowing her to catch up with him. With some effort, he rearranges the scowl on his face into what he hopes is at least reminiscent of a friendly smile. He looks around; trying to take a guess at what she might want. Knowing she exited the building after him, he doubts her desire to speak to him has anything to do with a nonfunctioning vehicle here in this parking lot. "Yes, what can I do for you?"

Even before reserve finds its way into her green eyes, he realizes that his voice and his words came out a bit too gruff. "I'm sorry Ma'am. Forgive me. I'm… Irritated."

She smiles; mild uncertainty evaporating from her gaze. "if I were you, I'd be a touch more than just irritated. I don't mean to be a bother. I imagine all you want just now is to be far away from this place, and I apologize. I didn't mean to eavesdrop in there. It was rather difficult not to overhear the conversations of the people around me…"

Harm smile becomes genuine. "There's no need for you to apologize. That's not your fault. The setup in there is horrible. There's absolutely no privacy. I heard bits and pieces of other conversations too, including yours, and I'm fairly certain everyone in there was aware of the loud guy who was third from the door."

She nods. "I think, you would've had to have been deaf, dumb, and blind not to be aware of that fella. Everything about him was large; his body, his hands, even his voice." She offers him an unexpectedly firm handshake from her small but sturdy hand, and he can't help but notice the simple, yet elegant, white gold and emerald Claddagh ring she wears as she says, "Janyth Donovan."

"Harmon Rabb. How can I be of help, Mrs. Donovan?"

She shakes her head. "I'm hoping I might be of help to you." She offers him a warm smile. "I must assume you know that woman, otherwise there'd be no reason for you to visit her."

Not sure where she's going yet, Harm nods. "She's my sister-in-law."

"My apologies." She says with a blend of displeasure and compassion. "I assume, based on what I heard, you currently have custody of her daughter."

"My wife does." He confirms.

She nods. "Ordinarily, I wouldn't dare to stick my nose in another person's private affairs, but 27 years ago my husband and I adopted our son. He was a foster child who came to us temporarily and stayed when we couldn't bear to part with him. It was the best decision we ever made. Nothing has ever made us happier than our boy. We had a devil of a time getting him permanently away from his mother. She was bad… Until today, I never thought I would meet anyone worse. I hope… it's none of my business… but I do hope that you won't give your sister-in-law what she wants."

Harm shakes his head adamantly. "I have no intentions of giving that woman anything. In the first place, I will not allow my niece to be used as a bargaining chip. She's not for sale. I will not attempt to put a price tag on her life, nor will I stand by and allow anyone else to do it. It's grotesque! Secondly, what her mother wants isn't mine to give." He shakes his head again. "She's been avoiding us; refusing to see us. I came here today because I thought she might be concerned enough to see me, given the fact that her sister is in the hospital. It was a mistake. I should not have come here alone. Now it's my word against hers… and I want custody of her daughter. That's not going to look good to a judge."

"That's actually what I want to talk to you about. It's not just your word against hers. I was there. I heard her unconscionable request just as clearly as you did. I'd also be willing to say so… legally."

"in that case…" Harm offers her his arm and his best smile. "Let me walk you to your car."

* * *

Scripps Memorial Hospital

La Jolla

Friday, June 20, 2008

15:11 HRS

With fresh coffee for two and a white paper sack from a local deli, Harm steps over the threshold of room 426 D and stares at the empty bed until mild confusion becomes barely controlled dread. She should be back in this room by now. Why isn't she here? Why isn't his mother here? What happened, and why didn't anyone call him? He turns for the nearest nurses' station and nearly collides with his stepfather.

"Frank! Sorry. Didn't see you there. Where are they?" Harm squints; obviously looking for something. "I thought you were home with Laura. Where is she? What are you doing here? Has something happened?"

Frank gently claps him on the shoulder and holds up a hand, silently asking for his patience. "Everything was fine 10 minutes ago. Laura is downstairs in the cafeteria with Keeter and Skates. They came to check on Mac, as did Laura and I." He looks around the empty room, his eyes lightly touching on the rumpled bed linens before he makes his way to the closed the bathroom door and raps lightly against it with two knuckles. When his wife's voice calls out calmly, "We'll be out in just a minute." He smiles and shrugs.

Only mildly relieved, Harm questions, "I thought we were waiting until tomorrow to bring Laura by to visit?"

"That was the plan, yes, but that girl was going to give herself a nervous breakdown, or an ulcer… or both… worrying about her aunt. She was quiet. Way too quiet for Laura. It was making me nervous. Hell, it was making her dog nervous, Harm. I was on the phone talking to your mother. Just out of the blue, she stopped talking about whatever we were talking about and she said,' Gotta go. I think she's coming around.' When I told Laura that Mac was waking up… Well let's just say that she was adamant about the fact that she wanted to see that for herself. I told her we'd come, but only for 10 minutes. The nurse wasn't going to let her in here, but when Laura said, 'Please, she's the only Aunt Mac I got.' The woman caved, Laura bought herself 5 minutes. When her time was up, she didn't want to leave, but she didn't put up too much of a fuss, especially not when Keeter offered to take her down to the cafeteria and buy her a frozen yogurt. How did things go at the prison?"

Harm's face contorts in a hideous scowl, but before he can answer, the bathroom door opens. With one arm around his mother for support, and moving at a snail's pace, Mac pushes her own IV pole toward the bed. Instantly alarmed, he questions just a bit too loudly "You let her get out of bed!"

Trish chuckles dryly as she shoots her son a look of warning. "First, I didn't… let… her do anything. Second, don't forget who you're talking to son! I left the room for 30 seconds to go and get her some ice chips. I was going to call you at that point and tell you she was awake but when I came back, she was halfway across the room. Wrestling her back into bed at that point really wasn't an option and I was the only other person in here. I didn't want to leave her alone even long enough to go find a nurse, so I figured it was best to go with her and make sure she didn't hurt herself in the process."

Harm hands Frank the coffees and the sack he brought with him before he quick steps across the room and puts an arm around his wife's shoulders, when he bends slightly and it becomes obvious that his intent is to catch her behind the knees and lift her off the floor, she shakes her head adamantly. "No. Don't do that Flyboy, please… Bad bad bad!"

The 'please' halts his progress more than anything else. He touches her face tenderly. "Let me help you Sarah. I'm fairly certain you're not supposed to be out of bed yet."

It takes a second or two for her eyes to focus on his face, but she smiles and pats his shoulder in a slightly uncoordinated drunken way. "Help, yes. Pick up, nooooo! That's bad! Standing up is better… Not so bad."

Trish tries to fill in gaps for her. "Every time she bends at the waist, she makes an ugly face. It has to hurt; even with the lasting effects of the anesthesia. You picking her up will only do the same thing. Let's let her walk, just help support her. She's slow but she's impressively stable given the fact that she's just had some of her insides removed."

As Harm takes the IV pole and tucks her free arm securely in his, she does lean into him but not as much as he expects her to. Her smile is somewhat brief but relaxed when she tells him. "Hurts good. Feels better than other surgeries. At least today. Tonight… tonight will hurt bad, and tomorrow… But not yet. Too much medicine. Brain fuzzy. Tell the nurse, no more medicine… Not until I say. You tell her Flyboy, okay. Too much. Rather hurt some… Just a little bit. I don't like brain being fuzzy. Feel drunk; don't like it. You tell 'em for me okay Squid."

Harm chuckles as he squeezes her hand affectionately. "Okay, don't worry about it. I'll tell 'em. Fuzzy brain bad! Less medicine. But for right now, let's just focus on getting you back to bed, okay?" He glances at his mother over the top of his wife's head.

Trish shrugs. "That's the most she's said at one time since she woke up. She seems fairly lucid… maybe just a little over medicated."

As they help her slowly turn and sit down on the edge of the bed, she scowls with a momentary flash of pain. "Little over medicated… Ha! Weirdest drunk dreams I've ever had in my life! Dinosaur tracks and birthday cake in Australia, semiautomatic assault rifles, terrorists, helicopters, punching Clark Palmer for stealing your face, Sergei and Snoopy… All in the same dream!"

Both thoroughly confused, Trish and Frank eye Harm with concern when he throws back his head and laughs boldly. "Yep Ninja Girl, I definitely think you've had enough medicine for a while. Now lay down." He nudges her shoulder gently with one hand and catches her behind knees with the other arm; helping ease her back into the bed so that she will have to do less of the work with her own sore muscles. "Why did you get out of bed anyway?"

As he pulls the sheet and blanket up around her middle, gently tucking her in, she glances at the bathroom door and then looks at him as if he's asked a dumb question. "Had to go Harm."

He nods. "Uh huh, you know this place is full of nurses and bedpans right?"

She scoffs. "Not gonna happen! Not as long as I can take myself."

He brushes hair away from her face and chastises softly. "Stubborn Jarhead!"

"Silly Squid!" She fires back quietly as she lays her head back against the pillows and closes her eyes. "I'm going back to sleep now. Stay here with me."

"You got it. Not going anywhere else. You sleep. I'll sit watch." He says, taking her hand in his once more and squeezing it softly.

She smiles without opening her eyes when he takes her rings from his pocket and slips them back onto her hand. "You go see Casey?" She mumbles sleepily.

"I did… I've known all kinds of people Mac. Good ones, bad ones… But I've never met a sorrier excuse for a mother in all my life. She'll sign over her rights to Laura…"

Mac's eyes open wide in shock. "She will… Voluntarily? No, wait! Not Casey! There's a catch. Big smelly one! What does she want?"

"Doesn't matter. She's not going to get it. She tried to use her daughter as self-serving collateral in front of a witness. One who will testify to that fact."

Mac nods drowsily. "No surprise. Selfish bitch. Willing to give away her own kid, if maybe it will get her something. Never mind doing what's best for Laura. What did she ask for?"

"Your Corvette. I didn't even bother to tell her it wasn't yours anymore."

Mac shakes her head as she closes her eyes again. "That's all! That's all she wants for her daughter! A stupid car? Good thing you went; I would've strangled her!"

"Oh, a stupid car, and to be free of the burden of motherhood. For what it's worth, I would've liked to punch the woman. Something I've never wanted to do before… to any woman… but… I seriously thought about it today. The only thing that saved her was the 2-inch-thick Plexiglas wall between the two of us. It provided just enough of a deterrent, until my common sense kicked back in again."

Handing a coffee and a fresh deli sandwich from inside the paper sack over to his wife, Frank says, "I know it's tantamount to buying a kid and that's morally disgusting. It's beyond filthy, but I'd gladly give her 100 times what that car is worth if it means Laura never again has to deal with a mother who's actually willing to sell her!"


	112. Chapter 112: Getting Spooked

**Chapter 112: Getting Spooked**

**Author's Note: **carramor, Ouch! That sounds painful, and by painful, I mean painful with every breath. I've taken quite a few tumbles in my lifetime. Somehow, I've managed to avoid breaking bones, but I've had more than my fair share of bruises and injured muscles or torn ligaments. Take care. Rest up. You have my thoughts, wishes, and prayers for a speedy recovery.

* * *

Scripps Memorial Hospital

La Jolla

Friday, June 20, 2008

15:20 HRS

From his place of the cafeteria table, Keeter eyes the two females with him curiously. When Laura catches him watching them with speculation in his eyes she puts down her spoon. "What's the matter Keeter? Your face looks funny."

He reaches over and gently pokes her just below the shoulder. "My face looks funny?"

Laura nods emphatically. "You're looking at us weird; how come?"

Delaying his reply, he turns a raised eyebrow toward Skates who only nods affirmatively and lifts one shoulder in a shrug as she helps herself to half a spoonful of yogurt. "It's true." She uses the hand holding her spoon to conceal her mouth from view before she swallows. "Your face does look funny."

Keeter grins. "I was just trying to figure out what's the matter with you, runt? I mean, I know why she's barely eating…" He points to Skates. "But you; you Been sitting there for almost 15 minutes and you haven't eaten half of your yogurt. What's wrong kid?" With a playful gleam in his eyes he teases, "You're not pregnant too; are you?"

Laura drops her own spoon into the plastic cup that contains her treat. "Yuck! Keeter! Don't be gross! I'm a kid… and I'm trying to eat too!"

Laughing boisterously, he questions, "Being pregnant is gross?"

"it is if you're a kid! That's just nasty… And somebody's probably going to jail too!"

His laughter dries up. "Laura, you're absolutely right. That is nasty; and there's no probably about it. I guarantee you, if it were even possible for you to find yourself in that position, somebody would definitely be going to jail. I would personally see to it."

Laura shakes her head. "You're weird Keeter."

He shrugs. "I've been called worse… a lot worse."

"Why did you ask me that?"

"it was a bad joke. I apologize. I was just trying to get you to smile. You'll barely eating, and you're too quiet."

Laura shrugs. I was just thinking about Aunt Mac. She's gonna be okay now; right?"

"She's gonna be fine runt. He nods.

"You sure? She's different now. Like Aunt Mac, but not like Aunt Mac."

Skates reaches over and pats the little girl's hand. "She's going to be fine Laura. She'll be back to her old self in no time at all. She's different right now because of the medicine they gave her to make her go to sleep so they could do surgery. It will wear off and she will still be Aunt Mac; I promise." I think I heard Frank say that they wanted to wait until tomorrow to bring you to visit. I'm sure that's at least one of the reasons why. They knew she was going to be a bit groggy; a bit out of sorts. They didn't want it to scare you."

"I wanted to see her. She takes care of me."

"She's still going to take care of you. I promise. She's just going to need a few days' rest before she'll be like herself again, you'll see."

"I didn't know Uncle Harm was going to see Mom today. Nobody told me. I thought he would stay here with Aunt Mac, but he didn't he's not here."

"He probably is by now." Keeter says. "And if he's not, he will be shortly. You know I'm right, if you think about it. You know your uncle isn't going to leave and stay gone for very long. He's crazy about your aunt; not to mention you kid. If he stayed gone for too long, he would miss you.

The shadow of something dark seeps into Laura's brown eyes. "I know; I just wish he didn't go to the jail by himself. He should have waited until after Aunt Mac gets better. He shouldn't go to see Mom all by himself. She's bad."

Keeter and Skates share a worried expression that girl doesn't notice because she's busy playing with her yogurt; stirring the chocolate into the vanilla with her spoon.

"Hey kid… You know your uncle's a big boy; right? He can take care of himself."

Laura nods. "Yeah, but all his people are good. Aunt Mac, Grandma and Grandpa, you and Skates, Jen, and the Roberts… Even Mr. A.J. Uncle Harm's not use to people like Mom. She's not nice. She does bad things to people, and she doesn't even care. If he was gonna go see my mom without Aunt Mac, he shoulda told me. I would've gone with him."

"I thought you didn't want to go there."

"I don't. But I don't want Uncle Harm to go there all by himself even more."

Trying to wrap his mind around the fact that this very small girl who has a difficult time standing on her own two feet obviously sees herself as Harm's protector, Keeter stares at her in wonder."

When he's quiet for too long, Laura looks up at him and blows out a puff of air with an exasperated sigh, "What?"

Keeter reaches over and pats her on the back. "Nothing kid. You're a good egg. That's all. If you want me to, next time Harm needs to go visit with your mom, I'll go with him."

"You'll do that?" She asks incredulously.

"Hey, he's my friend too."

Smiling, Laura decides she'd rather eat her yogurt than play with it.

With a smile of her own, Skates rises from her seat, walks over and pitches what is left of her own snack into a nearby trash can. Returning, she pats Keeter's shoulder and offers him a brief but warm kiss. As she steps away, he chuckles with uncertainty. "What was that for? And where are you going?"

"Because you deserved it… and I'm going upstairs. I forgot my purse. I'll be right back."

Both Keeter and Laura watch her go. When the cafeteria door closes behind her Laura nudges him with a gentle elbow. "She likes you."

"I like her too, runt. More than I wanted to."

Laura squints at him, postponing a bite of yogurt as she asks, "Is that good… or bad."

Keeter shrugs. "Don't know. Can't decide. Guess I'm just gonna have to stick around and find out."

* * *

Skates taps lightly, almost inaudibly, on the door to Mac's Hospital room before slipping in on silent feet. When Harm, Trish, and Frank each turn her way with surprise in their eyes, she quietly points to her handbag left sitting on the window seal. As she retrieves it, she is surprised herself when Mac asks quietly "How's Laura Beth?"

She turns, smiling, to find that the Marine's eyes aren't even open. Apparently though, she's not asleep either. "She's okay."

Addressing everyone she adds, "You might want to wait until after she's on her way home with Frank to call her though, Harm. If you do it now, she'll just want to come back up here. She was upset to find that you weren't here when she arrived. She didn't like the idea of you going off to visit her mom by yourself. I think that upset her even more than you're not being here with Mac. Might be nice for her if she can hear your voice and know that you made it back from the prison safe and sound. It breaks my heart and makes me absolutely furious knowing that the girl doesn't trust her mother at all… not even behind bars. She told Keeter and I just a few moments ago, she has no desire to visit the prison, but she would've gone with you just so you wouldn't have to be there by yourself with her mother. That's just wrong on… I don't even know how many levels."

Feeling weary, a newly disgusted by the reminder of Casey O' Hara and her sleazy behavior, Harm cringes. "I'm glad she wasn't there. She shouldn't trust her mother, and no child should be exposed to what I witnessed today, but I didn't mean to worry her. I'll call her in a bit."

Mac opens sleepy eyes. For a moment, she simply watches Skates, contemplating her next question. "Not to change the subject, but how are things with you and Keeter. How is he dealing with all this? She points meaningfully in the general direction of the other woman's abdomen.

Skates smiles and lifts one shoulder in an easy shrug. "Considerably better than I thought he might. Or at least I think so anyway. It seems that way most of the time."

"Most of the time?" Mac yawns behind a hand with an IV line secured to it.

Skates nods. "We went out to dinner on the 10th. On the 11th he called out of the blue and informed me that he was already on his way out of town and he was taking a TAD the assignment; voluntarily. I wouldn't have thought anything of it if it hadn't been for a conversation we had on the 10th. He'd gotten some air time, flew with a loquacious RIO and didn't quite pick up on her interest in him until I pointed it out. She told him she didn't care for his aftershave. He explained that it was the only thing his pregnant girlfriend could tolerate fragrance-wise. After that, he said she got noticeably quieter. When we realized that he hadn't explained the fact that I'm acting as your surrogate, and that this woman undoubtedly thought I was carrying his child… Well… He took it well, or at least I thought he had. Typical Keeter, he laughed it off. With an irreverent 'Imagine that!" However, when he told me he was leaving on assignment, that's when I realized we hadn't talked about it anymore after that. He just let the conversation lapse, and I suppose I let him without really being conscious of it. The conversation moved on to other things. So, after he announced he was leaving, I thought maybe he'd gotten spooked; either by the whole surrogacy thing, or maybe just by the relationship thing. Either way, I half expected never to see him again. Then, two days ago, he showed up at my front door just as unexpectedly as he left. If he did get spooked, and I really think he did, he's either come to grips with it, or he's trying to. He… well… He was happy to see me. What with me being so nauseous, things have been sort of… lukewarm between us until just very recently. He's been great. He's never complained. I've changed his aftershave, I've changed the food he eats, at least when he's with me anyway, I've changed his plans, I threatened to puke on him if he dares to touch me at the wrong time, and he hasn't issued a single complaint. He's never said a word about it being weird or uncomfortable. If it is, he doesn't seem to want talk about it, and you know Keeter, if he wants to talk about something, he does. Oftentimes regardless of what other people want." She grins and shakes her head. "So, I'm content not to push… for now."

"Maybe he's not uncomfortable with it. Maybe that's why he got spooked."

Skates smiles but squints. "Mac, maybe we should have this conversation when you aren't under the influence of post-op sedatives and pain medication. You're talking in circles."

Trish's smile is knowing and patient. "No, I don't think she is talking in circles. Her thought process may be a bit garbled and abbreviated at times, but I think she said exactly what she meant to say. "This isn't a role Jack Keeter imagined himself in; I'm fairly certain. I'm also fairly certain it's a role he never imagined being even remotely comfortable with. If he is suddenly realizing that it doesn't bother him… I could see that bothering him. I could definitely see that knocking him for a loop. It's sort of flies in the face of everything he thinks he knows about himself. The day after their wedding…" She pauses to point between Harm and Mac. "You weren't present for the whole duck vs. swan conversation."

When Skates raises an eyebrow curiously, Trish rises from her chair. Placing an arm around Skates' shoulders and reaching for her husband's hand, she moves for the door. "Come with me, and I'll tell you all about what Mac calls Keeter's identity crisis. She's never going to get the rest she needs with all of us hanging around here. Marching them out the door, Trish turns back smiling. "Call me if you need anything darlings. We're going downstairs to get Laura, and then we're going home."

Even before the trio is out of sight, Mac's eyes began to slide shut and she waves the hand her husband isn't holding as she surrenders herself once more to the depths of medicinally induced sleep.


	113. Chapter 113:Good News

**Chapter 113: Good News**

**Author's note: **I won't promise, but there might be another chapter later tonight. This chapter got a slow start. I actually started it yesterday, but couldn't get more than a few paragraphs in without a fight. Things just wouldn't flow naturally. In the last 24 hours, this chapter has had three wildly different beginnings. Now that I finally got this much down on paper, the muse, the dog, and I are all hungry. I must break for sustenance. To borrow words from General MacArthur, "I came through and I shall return."

* * *

Roberts' Residence

Washington, DC

Saturday, June 21, 2008

10:09 HRS

Harriet puts the last of the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher. As she closes the door on the appliance, she turns to find her husband snagging a piece of leftover bacon from the small Tupperware dish ready and waiting to be stored in the refrigerator.

Munching discreetly, Bud says "You didn't eat much this morning. You okay?"

She smiles and nods. "I think this pregnancy is finally starting to catch up with me… At least a little bit. Nicky wanted eggs with his pancakes this morning. They smell disgusting, but so far, that's the only thing I've found that bothers me this time around."

"Ahh. Well, that explains why you asked me to double check the expiration date."

"Yeah, our entire dining room smelled like scrambled eggs. Rotten scramb… Never mind, let's not talk about it." She declares going slightly green around the gills. "But don't worry about me. I'm fine. When my stomach settles, I'll try some yogurt."

Smiling with sympathy, Bud steps close and kisses the top of her head as he wraps his arms tightly around her.

"Seriously honey." Harriet pats his arm as she leans into his embrace. "I'm okay. I'm just past the halfway mark with this pregnancy. Why couldn't any of our children have been this well behaved? So far, this little one's an angel."

Standing close enough to detect a flutter of movement, Bud throws back his head and laughs merrily when the so-called angel within follows that up by delivering a firm kick to the inside of his wife's belly.

Startled but happy, Harriet steps back in his arms, allowing just room enough to place her own hand gently against the recently formed swell of her abdomen. "Well… It's about time you make some noise in there!" She smiles. "I was starting to worry. Let's go call Mom and Dad!"

* * *

Scripps Memorial Hospital

San Diego California

Saturday, June 21, 2008

07:02 HRS

Harm pulls the sheet and the blanket down, folding them back at the foot of the hospital bed and tucks the fitted sheet back into its proper place before returning to his wife's side in the bathroom where she carefully eases one of his well-worn gray T-shirts slowly over her head. She struggles momentarily trying to remove a small bag of IV fluid from its nearby pole, but stops when the effort to do so causes more pain than its worth. Before she can ask him for help, he's there, quietly taking the bag from its place and carefully guiding it through the sleeve of the shirt she has claimed for her own. Moving with him, she makes a fist so as not to tangle her fingers in the IV line as she pushes her arm through the sleeve. While he returns the clear bag of medicine to its proper place, making certain there are no kinks in the line, she tugs the shirt down into place over her sore abdomen, letting the hem fall to her mid-thigh over black leggings. Although the waistband is soft elastic, she carefully rolls it down to a more comfortable position where the elastic isn't resting directly on top of one of her three small but freshly closed and bandaged surgical incisions. Unwilling to sit until she absolutely must, she leans against the bathroom vanity for support while he gently lifts her freshly washed hair free of the shirt's collar, and coils it into a sloppy bun on top of her head which he holds it in place with one hand as he drapes a clean towel around her shoulders with the other. He lets her hair fall loose down her back and reaches for the nearby hairbrush in an effort to keep her from moving about anymore than she absolutely has to. When he attempts to hand it to her, she shakes her head. "Not in here. I'm just about done for. I have to sit down."

When he closes the lid on the toilet, she manages a smile. "I can make it back to the bed, but that's it. It's time to be still for a while."

"Too much too soon?"

"No, I'm okay. I wanted to get up, wash my hair, and put on some real clothes. The hospital gown was starting to get on my nerves, but I couldn't have managed all of it by myself. Not today. Maybe tomorrow or the next day. So, thanks for the help, Flyboy. Still wish I could've managed to shower, but at least I feel a little better."

He winks as he shakes his head, clicking his tongue against the inside of his cheek. "Can't do that yet. Have to keep the incisions completely dry for a few more days. When Doc says it's okay, I'll take you home and put you in the shower. Might make washing your hair bit easier than leaning over the sink."

"You're not bad at it either." She smiles and plants a light kiss on his cheek as she places her arm in his. It would've been fun too if I didn't feel as though someone has just surgically removed a significant portion of my insides… Oh wait… Someone did."

He walks back to the bed with her, moving at a turtle's speed, but there's already a small but noticeable improvement with both her pace and stability, and at least today she's not nearly as affected or altered by the medication she's taking. The doctor did agree to adjust her medication to a lower dosage briefly to ascertain whether are not she could remain comfortable without negatively affecting the healing process. She gets tired easily, and sleeps often, but so far she has not complained of unbearable pain, and for this, Harm is grateful beyond words. "What would've been fun? My washing your hair?"

"Yeah. We should do that again Flyboy… Some time when I don't feel like I've been poked, prodded, probed and suctioned into infertility."

He chuckles, shaking his head. First, you're not infertile. You still have your eggs. You just can't use them without help. Second, leave it to you to get turned on when I'm not allowed to do anything about it."

She laughs. "But I didn't. I'm just saying… Under better circumstances, I definitely could."

With they're near enough to the bed, he lets go of her IV pole and supports Mac with both arms as she turns and perches, with some difficulty, on the edge of her bed. She groans and winces as she settles back in, softly resting a hand against her tender belly. Grateful for the chance to be still for a while, she closes her eyes but tries to offer him a reassuring smile.

When she opens them again and he's sure she's okay, he hands her the hairbrush sticking out of the pocket of his trousers and flashes his smile as he whispers playfully. "So could I Sarah, but for now, I think we should change the subject. Do you want the blankets back?" When she shakes her head he settles into the chair beside her bed.

Already bored with doing nothing, despite her lack of endurance, she glances down at the chipped lavender nail polish on her toenails as she brushes her damp hair. When she's done, she picks up a bottle of nail polish remover and a large cotton ball from the tray table that is within easy reach of her bed. However, when she bends her knee, attempting to bring it to her chest in an effort to reach her own toes, the resulting flash of pain is enough to make her reconsider, straighten both legs completely, and return all grooming supplies to their former place. She shakes her head with mild discontent. "That's going to have to wait for tomorrow… or…" She grunts. "Maybe the next day." Instead of giving herself a pedicure, she studies her husband's obviously tired face as she reaches for the novel waiting on the same tray table. "Harm, go home. Have a shower, a change of clothes, decent food, and a nap. I'm fine."

He shakes his head adamantly. "I'm fine too. Mom's going to bring me a change of clothes later. I'll shower and rest for a while when you're taking one of your naps. I'll sleep soundly tomorrow, when you're back home in our bed."

"Harm, you should at least go see Laura for a little while."

He shakes his head again. "She's coming by with Mom and Frank later. She's okay, I talked to her on the phone. She was a bit nervous because you weren't quite yourself yesterday. That, and I went to the prison without a buddy. Apparently, she would have appointed herself my pint-sized bodyguard if she'd known I was going."

"We certainly can't call her cowardly. Just the thought of going there frightens her. She'd do it anyway. Although, I'm not exactly certain what she thinks she'll be able to protect you from."

Harm chuckles quietly. "The day of her placement hearing, Casey actually flirted with me. Laura was smart enough to pick up on it. I remember her telling Casey, 'You leave him alone! He belongs to Aunt Mac!"

The sudden laughter that bubbles out of Mac quickly fades into a groan of discomfort. "Don't make me laugh, Squid! It hurts! Are you sure she's upset because you didn't go with a buddy. Maybe she thinks what you need is a chaperone!"

He scowls, but laughs. "I don't need any such thing. I promise. Casey, on the other hand…" He shivers in revulsion. "She might need a couple dozen, or at the very least a muzzle and a chastity belt."

Mac covers her mouth with one hand, trying to stifle her laughter, as she smacks Harm's knee with the other. "Don't… make… me laugh!" She hisses adamantly.

"I'm not trying to be funny. I'm serious. Yesterday when she asked for Frank's car; she suggested, not so discreetly, that once she has it, she and I might go for a ride."

"Ugh, gross Harm! Don't make me laugh, but don't make me puke either!"

He reaches for his wife's hand and squeezes it affectionately, but before he can say anything, the phone secured at his hip begins to play a familiar ring tone.

He answers quickly with the friendly, "Hi Harriett. What's up?" He listens to her response briefly and then, laying his phone down on the bed beside Mac, he selects the option to turn the speakerphone on. "Ask her yourself."

Harriet's happy voice bubbles with excitement as it comes over the line once more. "How are you Mac? Are you okay? Do you need anything?" I wish we were there to help out. I'm still allowed to fly right now. If you need me, I'll get on a plane this minute."

Mac smiles. "First, that's totally unnecessary. Harm is here. He's looking after me… a little too well. Any better, and he's gonna make me nuts. Second, I'm fine. Nothing I can complain about much; just the expected discomfort. I'll be good as new in a week… ten days, tops! But never mind me. I can hear it in your voice! What are you so excited about?"

"The baby moved!" She giggles triumphantly. "Finally!"


	114. Chapter 114: An Unexpected Arrival

**Chapter 114: An Unexpected Arrival &amp; A Helping Hand**

**Author's note**: Hi everyone!

If you are not one of the handful of people to contact me regarding Petty Officer Coates and her lack of presence in this story, it's okay with me if you want to skip over this note. If you did recently contact me regarding Coates and her aforementioned lack of presence, please read on carefully.

I feel a little ridiculous having to point this out so plainly after more than 100 chapters, because it should be obvious to all of you by now that this particular story is, first and foremost, about Harm, Mac, Laura, and their journey through the surrogacy process. Yes, there are other things going on at the same time. That's how life is. None of us gets to focus on only one thing for several months at a time. Yes, their journey does affect other people. No, I'd do not dislike Jennifer Coates. In fact, I like her very much. I often found her character to provide a breath of fresh air while the show was running. However, she does not, and she will not at any point in the foreseeable future, have a large role to play in this story, because were this real life, she would not have a large role to play. I have said more than once that although I do not always succeed in my efforts, I do strive to keep this story as real as possible.

The show's creators misled a lot of people, myself included, about what is, and what is not, allowed within the military. In reality, had Coates moved in next door to Harm, a superior officer, with the intent of assisting him to raise a teenage daughter, they both would have faced some sort of disciplinary action. Superior officers, and their subordinates do not raise children together. Big no no! I left that part of the story intact, because I didn't write it, and also because I didn't want to deal with the headache of trying to clean it up. Everyone already knows and accepts that it happened. Likewise, outside of work, commanding officers and their subordinates don't usually spend an inappropriate amount of time together. Yes, Jen is aware of what is going on in the Rabb household. She cares and offers what support she can. She pops up from time to time when it's acceptable for her to do so. I also write slowly, so some of you just need to exercise a bit more patience. Although she's not a major part of this story, she does have a role to play. She will return.

I realize I do not post every day, but even when I do not manage to post a new chapter, rest assured, I work on this story daily. Even when I'm not writing or researching, at least once or twice a day, every day, details of this story that still need to be worked out come to mind. I'm always considering this, or puzzling over that, and I jot things down so that I can address them when I have time to do so. I do have a life outside of writing this story. So, again, patience please; and thank you.

Now, for those of you who are still hounding me because Jen was not even considered as a potential surrogate, once again, Mac is her commanding officer. I don't care if you're commanding officer is male, female, human, android, Betazoid, or Klingon with a bad case of Measles; becoming pregnant with their baby, whether through surrogacy or via the more traditional method, is not allowed! Therefore, I didn't write it. I'm not going to write it, and there will be no further discussion about it. The next person who sees fit to contact me about it will not receive a response of any sort. The matter is closed. If this does not meet with your approval, then you have a choice to make. You can either stop whining about it, or you can stop reading!

For those who are brave of heart, rational of mind, and secure enough in who they are not to take this personally… On with the story! And Annie, before I began, comments made in your last review inspired part of this chapter. Thank you!

* * *

Scripps Memorial Hospital

La Jolla, California

Saturday, June 21, 2008

07:10 HRS

Just outside of Mac's hospital room, Chloe Madison leans casually against the door jamb unnoticed for two long minutes. The smile on her face in bright enough to rival those on the faces of two of her oldest and dearest friends. Upon arriving and locating the appropriate room she had every intention of breezing in full of her usual sunshine and vitality. However, before eye contact was even possible, she heard happy voices, warm laughter, and evidence of sheer joy. Now, she stands in silent witness taking a moment to simply enjoy the room full of beautiful smiles, sweet laughter, and the occasional stray, but happy, tear that is brushed quickly away.

"I expected to feel something before now. Maybe even a month ago. All of my kids moved early in their pregnancies." Harriet's merry voice enters the room courtesy of modern technology and the cell phone lying on the bed beside Mac. "I don't know what took the little one so long."

"I do." Mac declares with equal parts mirth and certainty. "This child belongs to Harmon Rabb, Jr. He's probably going to be late for his birth, his funeral, and everything in between. He can't help it. It's his daddy's fault! it's genetic inbred. It's literally encoded in his DNA!"

Harm manages to laugh and grimace at the same time. "I am not late for everything, Jarhead!"

Wholly unconcerned with his argument, his wife shrugs undaunted. "Almost everything. Even when it's of life-threatening importance, you manage to run it down to the wire, Squid."

Mac, only you could see arriving just in the nick of time as a bad thing. Most of us don't have a built in chronometer in our heads. Most of us aren't compulsively 5 minutes early for everything."

"Yes, I know." She says with exaggerated patience. "And if you're not 5 minutes early… You're late." She shrugs and widens her eyes in a 'so there' fashion.

Harm shakes his head. "God help us if the child Skates is carrying has a brain built to rival Brietling. There will be no end to this discussion in our house. At least not for the next two decades; possibly much longer."

Forget about the kids Flyboy. I predict you and I are still going to be having this discussion 40 years from now, because… well, you're kind of thick headed." She offers him a sweet, saccharine smile.

Leaning forward in his chair, he raises an eyebrow and comes close enough to kiss without actually doing so. In a whisper, he teases, "You ever think maybe it's a bad idea to insult the person looking after you? What if I decide to poison your Jell-O, Marine?"

From the doorway, Chloe picks up the camera on the strap around her neck and snaps a candid shot as Mac shrugs; her dark eyes alive and sparkling with challenge. "Marines don't eat Jell-O Harm… And I'm not scared of you!"

He laughs. "Mac you eat everything… Except for meatless meatloaf."

"And Jell-O. When have you ever seen me eat Jell-O?"

Harriet laughs, and although she is not seen, it's easy to imagine the blonde shaking her head in response to their lively banter. "Don't you two ever get tired of squabbling with each other?"

Chloe can't help but laugh aloud, effectively announcing her presence, when they answer in unison with a boisterous and decisive "No!"

Harriet's moment of confusion at hearing an unexpected new voice in the room is short lived when Mac exclaims brightly, "Chloe! What you doing here? Get in here! How long have you been standing there spying on us?"

Still laughing, Chloe releases her camera, letting it fall against her chest, and then pushing it to the side as she trots into the room and into Mac's outstretched arms. Before answering any of her questions, Chloe addresses Harriett. "I'm convinced; they would cease to exist if they ever stop squabbling with one another, Harriett. For them, it's like oxygen. Without it, they would rapidly succumb to death. Personally, if you want my opinion, I think they used arguing as a substitute for sex in the early years of their relationship."

Mac rolls her eyes but hugs the girl as Harm's mouth falls open and Harriet giggles with agreement as Chloe continues, "All the passion, none of the touching… Or at least very little of it. Probably frustrated the hell out of them… Which just lead to more arguing."

"There's only one problem with your theory Chloe. "If that's the case, why are they still arguing?"

"It comes naturally now. After all these years. Like talking in their sleep. They don't even have to think about it. Plus, they're lawyers anyway. They can't help it. It's kinda what they do. But, to be fair, they don't wage war like they used to… At least not that I've seen anyway. They are still just as noisy; sex has just made them nicer to each other."

Harriet giggles again, as Mac complains lightly, "Will you two butt out." Without even needing to make eye contact with him, she adds. "You're making Harm uncomfortable, and Chloe, you never answered my questions."

Chloe flashes Harm a warm but apologetic smile, as she answers, "What do you think I'm doing here? I came to see you. You just had surgery! I was standing there for a few minutes. Long enough to take a picture, but I wasn't spying. I was… Enjoying the vicarious thrill. You guys are so happy; it's contagious."

"Harriet felt the baby move for the first time! But Chloe, I told you not to come. There's nothing for you to do. I'm fine. What about school; your classes?"

"That's just plain awesome! No wonder you all sounded like kids in a candy store from all the way down the hall. I'm not in a hurry to be anyone's mother, but I do want to know what that feels like someday. And yes Mac… I know you told me not to come." She shrugs with spunk, "I came anyway. Summer is divided into two semesters and each one is only six weeks long. I'm taking this one off. I could do with a short break. When I'm not busy helping, I'll lie on the beach; soak up the sun and the salt air; take some of it back to Vermont with me. There will be plenty to do. Harm has to go back to work next week, Trish has a gallery to run. Harriet's in DC. Skates is here, but also working and she's no less pregnant. Not to mention, keeping Keeter in line is probably a full-time job. You're not supposed to pick up anything that weighs more than 10 pounds for a while. I know Laura's tiny, but she's not that tiny. You're gonna need some help." She bows theatrically. "Help has arrived… consider me… at your service. I know I showed up unexpectedly. I'll stay in a motel if you want."

"You will not!" Mac declares while Harm shakes his head and adds, "I finished the guest bedroom. It's all yours. Save your money for school."

"Great, it's settled then, I'm staying!"

Mac nods slowly, more so because she'd like to spend some time with the girl, than because she needs help. "But only until the fall semester." In a firm voice she adds, "You are going back to school."

"I know that. Not a problem. I took one semester off last summer too; remember? With the semesters for the summer only being six weeks long, they're kind of cram packed. They move fast, and there's almost no break in between the end of the second summer semester and the start of fall semester. Between school, work, and taking pictures… This girl could use a break. I might even put down the camera for a week."

Mac snorts. "Ha! I'll believe it when I see it. You might last a day or two… But all week?" She finishes in a singsong voice. "I don't think so!"

Chloe laughs. "You probably right. But I think I'll try anyway. So… Where should I start?"

Harm can't help but flash his smile in response to her eagerness. Reaching over, he nudges her affectionately. "A few minutes ago, Mac was trying to paint her own toenails. She discovered it's not a good thing to do when you're only one-day post-op. If memory serves correctly, I believe you've painted her toes before; more than once. I'll leave it to you. I'm going to go stretch my legs; maybe find a cup of coffee. That is, if I can find coffee that doesn't look like motor oil or prehistoric sludge. Thanks for calling Harriet. I'll leave you with my girls now."

Chloe gives him enough time to leave the room and be out of hearing range before she whispers with exuberance, "I'm one of his girls now? Cool! I've officially been claimed!"

"You always have been one of his girls, Chloe. He's just a little more comfortable saying so now."

Harriet chimes in again with her usual effervescence. "If you're staying for a while, Chloe, how are you with a paintbrush? Mac's almost finished with the nursery. I wish I were there to help; especially now."

Mac shakes her head for Chloe's benefit, and speaks for Harriet's, "No! It may take me a little longer to finish than I hoped, but I want to finish the nursery myself. I don't get to carry my children. I don't get to feel them moving, or growing inside me. I don't get to bond with them in that way. This nursery, it's my way of participating in the process. It's my way of connecting. I appreciate the offer to help; I really do guys. Harm helps out with the nursery, but that's different. He's Dad. Please don't be offended, but we don't want other people involved with the nursery preparations. We're doing it ourselves. Harm's going to put the stars and constellations on the ceiling. He doesn't want me climbing up on a ladder anytime soon. Nearly everything else is already done. The room will be ready long before it has to be. There will be other ways for Chloe to lend a helping hand."


	115. Chapter 115: Yet to be Titled

**Chapter 115: (yet to be titled)**

**Author's Note**: JC: Thank you for your interest, and your question. In the interest of avoiding spoilers, I don't want to answer definitively, but if I ever finish this story, the next one might be a look at Laura later in life. Although, it won't fit into this story, I can very clearly see a twenty-something year old Laura. You should expect some marked improvement disability-wise. Laura has a multitude of goals. You might say a hope chest full of them. Some of them are related to her own prognosis. She tells me about them frequently; and with a great deal of passion. She has so many plans that the only thing I can say with absolute certainty is that you should expect her to be a very busy young lady. I just haven't found a place, or adequate time, to write about all her plans yet. But to give you some idea… I think she will always have some limitations. Like you, I don't yet know if marathons are in her future. However, don't automatically dismiss it. People do amazing things every day regardless of limitation or ability. My best friend has been blind since birth. She enjoys snow skiing in the winter! Even though I've known her for 27 years, this fact still blows my mind.

There are organizations like the one known as POINT. Don't ask me precisely what the acronym stands for; I've long since forgotten. These organizations adapt extreme sports for people with physical limitations. That not only includes snow skiing; but a variety of other sports as well. My friend has tried, without success, to talk me in to going skiing with her. I won't go! I was born on the Gulf Coast in the middle of the late August heat wave where it is frequently 95° in the shade. I love the heat. When everybody else is moaning and groaning, "Good Lord, it's hotter than the hinges on the gates of Hell out here!" I'm outdoors, sweating profusely, and very nearly in the seventh Heaven. Transversely, at 50° Fahrenheit, people look at me like I'm crazy because I am so cold that my teeth chatter and my body literally aches. I hate being cold! So, I will never go snow skiing, no matter how well adapted it may be; unless science eggheads somehow figure out a way to make it snow in 80° weather.

My nieces and nephew are with me this week, the oldest was born in 2001. To keep them busy, I've introduced them to some movies I loved which aired before their time. Two days ago it was the Free Willy trilogy. (circa 1990s) Lily is the 10-year-old who provides heavy influence with regard to the inspiration for Laura. She was with me nearly four years ago on the day I started writing An Ocean… When I told her I was writing a story, naturally, her first question was "Am I in the story?" The only possible answer was, "Of course you are." and although Laura has become an amalgamation of several different people over time; that was the moment she was born – Then, a six-year-old, Lily's only staunch requirement was that Laura could not have her red hair. Her red hair is hers, and she's not sharing it with anyone! Not even Laura! However, I've digressed. Lily watched the first movie for all of 30 minutes before she announced, with total certainty, "I bet Laura could teach Willy how to do show tricks. She wouldn't be scared of him; not even when he's grouchy."

My point in all this? If an amputee can climb to the top of Everest with full use of only one arm…. It happened, I believe, in either 2004 or 2006. Look up Team Everest on the web if you're interested… Then, it will not surprise me in the least to find Laura bicycling the White Pass in Alaska, building stock cars for Daytona, or swimming with the orca off the coast of California… Leg brace or no! You'll just have to keep reading if you want to know because Lily and I have yet to make a final decision about what Laura will, or won't, be doing.

* * *

Saturday, June 21, 2008

Jack Keeter's Apartment

San Diego, California

18:26 HRS

Keeter opens his front door surprised by the unexpected knock. Astonished, but pleased by her presence, he queries. "What brings you here?"

Elizabeth Hawkes smiles warmly. "Aunt Ellie kicked me out. She told me to 'Go see that boy." She pauses to form quote marks in the air with her fingers. "I'm assuming she meant you. Apparently, when you're her age any man under the age of 50 is still considered a boy. What you up to?"

He shrugs as he steps aside, granting her entry. "No skin off my nose. She can call me boy if she wants to. As for what I'm up to; about 6 foot 3 inches. He flashes his grin and she rolls her eyes as she offers him a sweet kiss on her way in. "Game's on if you wanna watch, but the Padres are getting their sixes handed to them."

On her way to the couch, she looks around and announces, "Hey, you cleaned the bat cave!"

"Yeah, I do that every once in a while. Why did she kick you out?"

Skates sits down in his spot on the couch and picks up a plate from the nearby end table. Lifting a piece of rye bread on his sandwich, she sniffs the roast beef and horseradish sauce inside carefully before helping herself to a generous bite. She munches thoroughly and swallows before answering his question. Holding his plate out, silently inviting him to join her; she says, "She worries about being a burden… Which is not even possible." She shrugs. "No matter how many times I tell her that, she worries."

As he sits and reclaims his sandwich, he asks, "Want me to make you one?"

She shakes her head. "If that bite doesn't come back up within the next 10 minutes, I'll make my own. Aunt Ellie wasn't exactly comfortable when I decided to take Harm and Mac up on their offer to help out with the bill for the in-home care, but she says if I insist on accepting, then I may as well make use of it. Let someone else fuss over her for a while. The new attendant is fabulous. The first one we tried was unsociable. Didn't talk unless you forced her. She wasn't rude, just excruciatingly quiet. Unless Aunt Ellie specifically asked her to do something, she sat on the couch and stared at her phone. That's not going to work with Aunt Ellie. She's not going to invite you into her home and then remain silent the entire time you're there. The new girl, Sophia, is certified nurse's assistant, technically less qualified than the first, but she's warm and friendly. She's tiny; all of 5-foot-tall and she probably weighs 95 pounds soaking wet, but she knows her stuff. She can move Aunt Ellie around better than Mom can. Plus, she's far more gentle and patient than Mom. She'll do whatever Aunt Ellie asks her to, and then some. I came in yesterday; Aunt Ellie was up, dressed, well-tended to, and Sophia was making a meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Not her job, but she just shrugged when I pointed that out and said she didn't mind. She keeps Aunt Ellie as busy as possible. Two days ago when I dropped in, they were in the backyard. My aunt was fussing over her roses, or rather, Sophia was fussing over the roses while Ellie carefully supervised from her wheelchair. The day before that, I stopped by and found them putting a puzzle together in the living room. My aunt is as comfortable as possible and she's happy too. Sophia has five children under the age of 12 and she's barely over 30. If she's not careful, Aunt Ellie is going to adopt her, her husband and their five children. So, tonight, Ellie told me to leave them be and go entertain myself elsewhere."

He chuckles and drapes an arm over her shoulders. "She deliberately sent you over here to entertain yourself… With me. Funny, I thought she was smarter than that."

Skates shrugs as she watches the baseball game on television. Without asking, she helps herself to another bite of his sandwich before saying, "I think she's got your number. Maybe she knows you're not quite as infamous as you claim to be."

"Am too! Maybe she just likes infamous. Maybe you do too."

When she smiles quietly and indulges herself with a third bite. He gets up without comment, pausing only when she complains, "Hey, where you going?"

"To make another sandwich. I'll be back before you miss me."

"I told you…"

"Yeah, I heard what you told me… And I'm not sure if it's pregnancy related or not, but you're starting to eat in the same style as Laura and the Marine that she's related to."

Skates squints. "They have an eating style?"

He flashes his grin once more. "Yeah… Two fisted."

* * *

Monday, June 23, 2008

The Department of Child and Family Services

San Diego, California

09:15 HRS

Getting her bearings as she steps out of the elevator on the fifth floor and figures out which way the numbered offices run down the corridor, a true redhead, carefully dressed in a well-chosen informal summer suit, smooths her hair; unconsciously checking her appearance as she searches for the office of Pamela Jensen. Finding it in short order, she taps lightly on the open door's frame and waits for an invitation as she smiles at the thin middle-aged woman with shoulder length ash blonde hair behind the desk when she glances up from her paperwork.

"Ms. Jensen?"

"That's me." She quickly glances at her calendar, and then at the clock on the wall. "If you're my 10:00, you're a bit early." She rises to her feet. "Come in."

"No, I'm not your 10:00. My name is Janyth Donovan. I don't have an appointment. I was just in town. I thought I might as well swing by and locate your office. If you me to make an appointment, I'll be happy to oblige, but if you'll grant me just a few minutes of your time, I promise I'll be gone before 10."

Pamela Jensen smiles and beckons with welcome, gesturing toward one of the chairs in her tiny cluttered office. "What can I do for you Mrs. Donovan?"

"I understand that you are the caseworker in charge of Miss Laura O'Hara's placement. I'm aware that she currently resides with her aunt and uncle. I've come to speak with you regarding her mother."

Stepping out from behind her desk; curiosity fills the social worker's eyes as she closes her office door for the sake of privacy….

* * *

**Author's Note**: Bit of a cliffhanger, I know. But I haven't been able to post in about a week, and I know some of you are probably on pins and needles. My headset that I use for dictation is fighting me for every third word, so I decided to break here. I think the battery needs to be recharged. Going to call it a night. More tomorrow.


	116. Chapter 116

**Chapter 116:**

Monday, June 23, 2008

The Department of Child and Family Services

San Diego, California

09:45 HRS

Pamela Jensen watches gratefully as a good person leaves her office and closes the door behind herself. It's not the first time she's had a good person in her office, but the good ones are far outnumbered by the bad ones. She smiles cordially until the woman is no longer within sight. When she certain she's alone and that Janyth Donovan won't double back over some forgotten detail or some personal item left behind, the polite expression on her face crumbles as darkness, rage, and nauseating disgust take over. She doesn't need to pull Laura's file, a very thick file, to refresh her memory about the details of the girl's longstanding acquaintance with her office.

Twenty-eight years on the job. A lot of young faces have come through her door. She remembers all the faces; some of them bruised, battered, bitter, angry, jaded, hostile, dirty, neglected and scared, all of them lonely and in need. She can't remember all their names offhand, or all the details. Each case is similar, and each one is different. A long time ago… Maybe 15 years ago… All the names and details began to blend together. Because they had to, for her own sanity, for her own survival, and in order to allow her to continue to do this job. If they hadn't, she'd have burned out years ago. She would've either killed some lousy unworthy parent or herself. Human depravity, especially when exercised by parents, ceased to surprise or shock her more than two decades ago. There have been 989 in 28 years. The names of, and the details surrounding most of the children may have blurred, but she remembers all the faces and keeps a running tally; always present in her mind. She glances at scarred, battered file cabinets in her office; all of them overflowing with written documentation of each of the ugly incidents and abuses as she's had to push away for her own well-being. She doesn't have too clearly remember each one. Every single one is on file and very nearly, not to mention, very depressingly, at her fingertips.

A few of her kids' names and details have somehow remained separate from the horrid mental storehouse of suffering. The ones she remembers most clearly are the few who not only leave her care; they are the ones who thrive, the ones who remain healthy and wholesome despite the damage done by inappropriate, self-obsessed, unfit parents who did their best to destroy them. If the Rabb's get what they want, if they are permitted to adopt Laura O' Hara, then Pamela has no doubt Laura will become one of her cherished success stories. On the surface, it may seem selfish or cruel to only cling to memories of the good cases, and she does cling to them, with a white knuckled grip. But she has to. Her memories of the kids who no longer need her, the ones who got out; they are the reason she still does this job. Maybe one day she will retire, go a whole week without looking at medical reports the document unspeakable abuse, neglect, and suffering… But not today. Today there's one she actually has a chance… A good chance... to save.

Before her next appointment arrives, nearly 15 minutes late, she places several phone calls. Her first is one to the Rabb's house. When it goes unanswered, she leaves a brief message and moves on to Laura's pediatrician, her physical therapist, her school, to the prison where Laura's mother currently resides, to the in-house legal counsel for her agency, the office of domestic relations; most specifically, the division for child custody matters, and finally to the clerk responsible for managing the schedule of family court Judge, Wayne Dubose; where she formally submits her request for a new hearing regarding Laura's placement.

As though gearing up for a fight, she involuntarily clenches both fists. She's had enough. Although she's eager to see children remain with biological parents whenever possible, Cassandra O' Hara has been given ample opportunity to maintain custody of her child. Today's visit with Janyth Donovan only proves to her that the woman has no real interest in doing so. Sure, there's paperwork to be done, procedures to follow, red tape to cut through, but as far as she's concerned, Casey cannot sink any lower and she just burned through her last chance. If Pamela Jensen has anything to say about it… and she does… She'll make as much noise as she has to be certain Casey never gets her daughter back.

Only when she has to, for the sake of other cases; other children, does she push thoughts of Laura aside for the day. For the next several weeks, Laura's case will receive copious amounts of her personal time and attention and the hard copy file assigned to the girl will grow exponentially, but when it's over she will sleep soundly knowing once and for all that the girl will finally be free of her mother.

* * *

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Rabb Residence

San Diego, California

19:02 HRS

Chloe descends the back porch steps two at a time and trots to the water's edge; letting gentle surf lap and swirl around her their ankles while she smiles at the sight of Laura; walking chest deep in shallow water with her faithful canine buddy paddling along at her side. The girl walks a short distance, loses her footing, goes under, and when she'd resurfaces, she turns and goes back in the opposite direction until she loses footing again and repeats the process; seemingly doing some kind of round robin while the early evening sunlight sparkles dazzlingly on the water's surface

"Hey kid. What ya doin' out there?"

Laura pushes wet hair out of her face as she grins happily and bobs her chin with enthusiasm. "I'm walking!" She declares with obvious joy.

Unaware why the simple act of walking should make anyone so happy, Chloe squints.

She doesn't even have time to ask for more information before Laura instinctual fills in the gaps for her. "The water… It's just right, right here. Deep enough to hold me up, but I can still touch bottom. I don't need my leg brace, and I don't need my walker. I just walk. If I fall down, it doesn't hurt. Pretty cool! Kind of awesome even! The water gets too deep out there." She pauses to point. "So I go under and then I have to swim back… And sometimes the waves push me under. It's easier in a swimming pool. The bottom of the pool is flat and doesn't change. Plus, there's no big waves, but Charlie said it was okay for me to do this. He said I'm ready. He says my leg will get exercise and get less tired because of the water since the water takes most of the hard work away."

Watching from her comfortable resting place on the back porch, Mac calls out. "Have fun. But don't overdo it. When you get tired, stop."

"I know." Laura calls out happily. "I'm not tired Aunt Mac. Hey Chloe…" She giggles. "You think I can find someone who would give me dance lessons in the water?"

Chuckling at the uncommon question, Chloe slips off her swimsuit cover and tosses it in the direction of the back porch; satisfied when it at least lands in dry sand. She silently chastises herself for not being more thoughtful. Of course Laura would find walking without assistance a joyous occasion. Her limitations are all but neutralized by the buoyancy the water provides. She's released from her own developmental constraints. No wonder the kid loves the water. She's free. Chloe wades into the surf and scoops the girl up into her arms. "I don't know. I'm never thought about that. Maybe you can, but I think you should master walking in the ocean before you try dancing in it."

Nodding, Laura giggles merrily, undisturbed by her unseen visitor who only moments before had been knocking on her aunt and uncle's front door. When she received no answer in response to her knock, she turned to leave, only to catch the sound of the child's happy laughter carried to her ears courtesy of the ocean breeze. As she steps around the side of the house, coming into view of the back porch, Mac abandons her magazine and returns her glass of iced tea to the porch railing.

"Ms. Jensen? Hello…" Mac waves in greeting. "We weren't expecting you today. Did I overlook an appointment?"

"No. This one was unscheduled. I have news, and some things I need to discuss with you and the captain. I've requested a follow-up hearing regarding Laura's custody but before that request gets pushed through, I'll need this visit on record in Laura's file."

Mac sits up a little bit straighter; instantly going tense despite her best efforts not too. "Harm's not here right now, but he should be back momentarily. He went to get Chinese takeout for dinner. Come on up. Help yourself to a seat. We're just taking in a bit of sun and sea."

* * *

**Author's Note**: Dinnertime! More soon.


	117. Chapter 117: Wishes

**Chapter 117:Wishes**

**Author's Note**: Hi y'all. Shortly after my last post, I accidentally poured coffee out on my laptop. Under normal circumstances any cup placed on my writing desk is required to have a lid on it. Somehow, it happened anyway. Despite my best efforts to save Henry, (my laptop) he died. It is taking me awhile to replace him. However, I've made a few new discoveries. First, it appears that voice recognition software is more compatible with the Wordpad application than with Microsoft Word. Ironically this is probably because Wordpad offers less functionality. Second, authors can post to the review board for their own stories. If I should encounter technical issues in the future, and will not be writing for awhile because of them, please check the review section for my stories. I will post comments letting my readers know what the holdup is so that you don't have to question where it is I've gone to. No, I haven't ditched the story, but I'm still having computer issues. However, I believe things are finally well enough here for me to be able to post a chapter. Let's give it a try, shall we?

* * *

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Rabb Residence

San Diego, California

19:05 HRS

Pamela Jensen takes the long walk up the stairs from the sun drenched beach to the Rabb's newly expanded back porch. Although the wood has been properly stained and weather treated, it's still so new that she can almost detect the scent of fresh sawdust in the atmosphere. It's faint, but it's there, mingling under layers of salty sea air and sun block.

Clad in a brightly colored and loose fitting cotton caftan, Mac smiles in welcome. She grimaces slightly as she attempts to leave her comfortable resting place long enough to clear some of Chloe's magazines from the nearest chaise. "Here, I'll push the clutter aside… Sit; please."

Jensen smiles. "Stay where you are Colonel. I can shuffle the clutter for myself. You just had surgery. Friday… I believe?" When the Marine nods in the affirmative the social worker attributes the look on her face to that event. Sarah Mackenzie wears an expression that is born of equal parts fatigue, apprehension, and relief. After the visitor moves an assortment of magazines meant to capture the attention of young twenty-something women from the offered seat to a nearby table, she takes a second look as she settles in and decides there might be a touch more apprehension at this moment than relief. Years of experience have taught her that this has more to do with her presence than it does with the any post-surgical pain the other woman might be experiencing. Everybody looks at her this way; she has the power to take children away from people. Sometimes this book is mixed with hostility, anger, denial, resentment, or even rage. Sometimes, like now, it's mixed with a tepid perfunctory welcome, discomfort, worry, and hope despite the lack of more malignant emotions.

To put Laura's aunt at ease, she starts lightly without opening the leather bound notebook that she brings to rest against her knees. "It looks as if surgery must've gone well."

Mac nods. "I don't think it could have gone better. Apparently there were no complications. I hurt, but not nearly as badly as I was led to expect. I'll be taking it easy for a few weeks, but I'm okay. A little sore and tired; but good. More than anything else, I'm relieved. With any luck at all, the condition that led me to have surgery… Endometriosis… It's a thing of the past, and I have more than enough time to make a full recovery before the babies are born."

"Babies? It's been awhile since we talked. I take it... it's official? There's definitely more than one?"

Despite the fact that she deliberately restraints her enthusiasm, it's easy for Pamela to see the warm light in the Marine's eyes and she nods. "At least one per surrogate; according to what showed up on the ultrasounds. Harm and I are already thrilled, no matter how many there are, but we're both hoping that there won't be any more than two. According to the doctors, it's not impossible for one baby to hide behind another and therefore, not be visible on the ultrasound. We'd like to have our children and still have time for each other too."

"And what about Laura? Given the fact that the size of your family may double in the near future..." She pauses long enough to look to the ocean where her young client splashes and bobs happily in the surf with both her furry canine companion and the sweet-faced young woman she's never met. "Are you still looking forward to adopting her?"

"Yes. Harm and I couldn't want her more. She's part of this family. No matter how many babies we may have, she came first. Nothing will change that."

"I'll need to hear that from him as well." The social worker comments as she opens her notebook, twists her ink pin and begins to write."

Understanding that no offense is meant… that it is simply mandatory for the woman to have the consent of both potential adoptive parents, Mac chuckles gently. "Fine, ask whatever you need to. He'll be here shortly. He'll tell you. He's not shy about his feelings, or his intentions, where Laura is concerned. I find it hard to believe they've only known each other for ten months. Feels as though they've always been together. They're quite a pair."

"Yes, I've noticed. May I ask about the young lady out there with Laura now?"

Laura has been with them long enough now that Pamela Jensen's questions regarding all persons who come into contact with the girl have become commonplace. Familiar with the routine, Mac feels herself relax a bit and says openly, "That's Chloe… Chloe Madison… What would you like to know?"

"Is she a neighbor? Perhaps a baby sitter?"

Mac smiles brightly as she shakes her head. "Chloe is family. She's here visiting from her home in Vermont. I met her a little over 10 years ago when I had some spare time on my hands and decided to join one of those big sister\little sister mentoring programs for kids at risk. I was paired with her. I located her father who serves at sea in the Navy, and through him, I found her grandmother, Martha, who lives in Vermont and cared for Chloe until she was old enough to be on her own. Chloe needed a home. Her mother died unexpectedly. Her stepfather did not want to be solely responsible for raising her. Despite my life in the military and the geographical distance between our addresses, we've remained close to one another. She's in college now, currently enjoying a summer break. She's helping out while I recuperate. A few years ago she discovered an appreciation for photography. To say she's good… Well frankly, the word good is an insult to her talent. She was our wedding photographer. She took that photo hanging in our living room, and probably 200 other photographs as well. Harm's mother offered her the opportunity for a professional exhibit at her gallery last fall, and Chloe is still making money as a result of that exhibit."

"You befriended Chloe. Your husband took in Mattie. Now there's Laura. The two of you have a habit for taking in children in need."

Mac laughs. "Neither of us intended to make a habit of it. The opportunities simply presented themselves. I suppose neither of us could turn a blind eye… Walk away."

"Why do you think that is?"

Before answering, Mac shrugs and then pauses for a heavy moment to think before speaking. "When Chloe and I found each other… I was lonely and looking for a way to fill the hours when I wasn't at work. I don't think I was consciously aware of this at the time, but the best way to get out of your own head and stop obsessing about your own issues is to help someone else with theirs. Chloe was headstrong, vibrant, and desperately trying to hide the fact that she was scared, neglected, and lonely. I know what it is to be that kid. It's a big part of the reason I've bonded so deeply with both she and Laura. My Uncle Matt stepped into my life; helped me turn things around. I'll never be able to repay him, and I know I don't have to, but he saw something wrong and he did what he could to ease my suffering. It's simply my turn. As for Harm… unlike me, the only thing Harm ever needed growing up was more time with his father. He has literally traveled the world in his attempt to stay connected to his dad, and I'm pretty sure that his attempts be a part of Mattie and Laura's lives has helped strengthen that connection. Even if it doesn't intensify the bond between he and his father, at the very least, it's helped him heal. Harmon's death was tragic, but it's made Harm the man that he is. With the girls, he sees the absence. He knows the loss. He knows he can't fill that void. He just tries to make it bearable."

"You both seek to repair the damage done."

Mac laughs again. "I think you've given us both too much credit. I don't think our motives are quite that altruistic. I'm not sure we can ever fix the damage done by other people; whether the damage was done intentionally or not. I think people choose for themselves whether to heal or not. I think the best we can strive for is to be there to help them make their own way through the damage done and live life beyond it. That's what I want for Laura; a rich, full life beyond her mother and all the damage she's done, and I know that's what Harm wants for her too." Mac pauses and turns her gaze toward her niece. "Laura, time to get out of the water and dry Candy off. I think I just heard your uncle pull into the drive. He's got dinner."

"Yay!" Laura cheers. "Come on Chloe. We're having Chinese. Hi Ms. Jensen!" The girl calls out happily as she splashes her way toward the sand. " I didn't know you were coming over today. Is everything alright?"

"Hello Laura. There's nothing for you to worry about. I need to talk to your aunt and uncle for a few minutes, but I promise I'll be gone before your dinner gets cold."

Only when she's sure that her niece is safely out of the water does Mac struggle to come to her feet. Moving slowly she opens the back door for the other woman. "Chloe, keep an eye on her, please. Don't turn your back on the ocean."

Chloe laughs merrily. "She wouldn't get back in the water right now even if I paid her to do it. She's too busy thinking about her stomach… But I promise to guard her with my life anyway."

Laura rolls her eyes but smiles dryly. "Oh brother, you guys are real funny."

As the two women enter the Rabb's small kitchen, Chloe wraps a large beach towel around Laura's slender shoulders and lifts the girl's feet off the ground because without her brace, she won't be stable on her feet; especially not when she reaches the loose, dry sand between the shore and the house. Only when they are alone outside does Chloe question quietly, "Who is that lady?"

"That's Ms. Jensen. She works for the child Welfare place. She's my caseworker. She only comes to see me when Mom messes up. Like now; being in jail and stuff. I know she comes to make sure I'm OK. She says she has to make sure I'm in a good place now." Laura scowls. I wish she'd just leave me here and go away. Maybe she will if Uncle Harm and Aunt Mac get to adopt me."

"What, you don't like her?"

Laura shakes her head and shrugs. "She's a nice lady. I just never see her unless things are bad I'm tired of things being messed up. It's nice when things aren't messed up."

"Oh, okay. I get that. When I was a kid the only time it didn't feel like the whole universe was screwed up was when your aunt Mac was around, but I was always scared she was going to leave and things would go back to being messed up again… At least until I got use to her anyway… eventually I figured out she wasn't going anywhere, but until then, I was kind of a brat for awhile."

Laura pushes her wet hair out of her eyes and nods. "Maybe I was too for a little while. I told Aunt Mac that I hated her once. She didn't leave. She didn't even yell back. Mom woulda yelled back that she hated me more."

Chloe shakes her head as she hugs the girl close and leads her wet dog to the back porch. "I remember once being mad at your aunt because I wanted her to marry my dad, be my new mom, and give me a little sister. She told me she couldn't do that, and it made me mad, but she didn't leave. Not even when I pouted and threw a fit."

Laura eyes her friend with incredulity. "Don't get mad at me for saying this Chloe, but I'm really glad my aunt didn't marry your dad."

Chloe throws back her head and laughs aloud. "Me too kid! Me too! Trying to imagine Mac without Harm is just…"

"Really really weird?"

"It's worse than really, really weird… It's just unnatural."

* * *

While the girls dry themselves off in the setting sunlight and work their way into swimsuit covers, inside the house, Pamela Jensen smiles in greeting in response to the look of mild surprise in Captain Rabb's eyes as he places bags of takeout on the dining table.

"Were we due for a visit?" Harm asks as he rounds the table. On his way to the kitchen to get real silverware in place of the plastic stuff that came with their takeout, he touches his wife shoulder lightly in silent but affectionate greeting.

"No. I dropped in unannounced. Welcome home. I won't stay long enough to interrupt your dinner. I just wanted to let the two of you know that I've had a visit from a woman named Janyth Donovan. I've been to the prison in an attempt to speak with Casey and verify what Mrs. Donovan had to say, and I'd like to talk to the two of you about it for just a moment, but if you confirm what she had to tell me, Captain Rabb, it's my intent to petition the family court to nullify Cassandra's parental rights."

Harm nods thoughtfully, taking a deep breath before speaking and making his disgust known. "The short version… After Mac was safely out of surgery on Friday, I left her long enough to drive to the prison to let Casey know that we want to adopt Laura. We didn't want to ambush her by simply sending the paperwork courtesy of her lawyer without any warning. I expected her to put up a fight. I thought it possible she might be angry or offended. Now I wish she had been. That would have been easier to understand and to forgive. However, she declared that she believes that by simply taking care of her daughter's basic needs Mac and I are spoiling her. She went on to tell me that she would sign over all rights to her daughter for a price. She apparently believes her daughter is for sale Ms. Jensen."

"Captain Rabb, what exactly did she ask for in return?"

"A car. A car that is no longer in my wife's possession. She then suggested that, in addition to the Corvette, parental rights, where her daughter is concerned, might be had in exchange for sexual favors... from me."

"I see." Jensen grimaces; the conversation obviously leaving a very bad taste in her mouth as well as his. I've heard the same from Mrs. Donovan, and when pressed, from Laura's mother as well. As such, I have every intention of stripping Miss O'Hara's parental rights. Before I do, I need to know… Do you still wish to adopt Laura and provide a permanent home for her?"

"More than ever."

Both Harm and Mac follow her to their front door as she says,"I'll request a new hearing before Judge Dubose, if possible, because he's already familiar with the case. Laura's more likely to be comfortable in his presence than an unfamiliar judge's if hers is required for any reason. I'll have our in-house counsel draft a motion to terminate Casey's parental rights. That will clear the way for the adoption. I'll be in touch. Enjoy your evening… And thank you."


	118. Chapter 118: Striking a Balance

**Chapter 118: Striking A Balance **

**Author's Note**: There's more coming, but first, I have to go outside and deal with the people who are disturbing my peace.

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Rabb Residence

San Diego, California

22:47 HRS

Harm walks into his bedroom and stretches his tall frame out across the center of his bed lengthwise letting his feet hang over the side. Catching himself before it's too late, he starts to rest his head against his wife's abdomen and thinks better of it. Instead, he turns slightly, resting at an odd angle and lays a gentle hand against the T shirt she wears, mindful of gauze bandages over healing flesh.

"Tough couple of days." He says as her hand finds his and their fingers intertwine.

He feels her shrug. "We've seen worse. A lot worse."

He chuckles wryly. "That's certainly true. Question…"

The noise Mac makes in response is one that indicates a kind of humorless amusement. "Maybe I've got an answer… But I make no promises."

"Exactly what are we supposed to tell Laura about this latest development… Concerning her adoption."

Mac sighs heavily with quiet disgust. "I would suggest we tell her as little as humanly possible while being very careful not to lie to her at the same time. She may not understand all the intricacies of this now, but we'll have to tell her something soon. She's much too smart not to ask questions, and we both know it. She wants to be adopted, and right now I'm not sure she's old enough to really grasp the important of her mother's most recent decision. She will remember it though and someday she will be old enough to understand what she remembers. When she reaches that day, I don't want her memory of how you and I handle this to cause a potentially damaging emotional problem. My mother abandoned me without so much as a goodbye. If Laura ever learns that Casey was willing to sever her own parental rights in exchange for something so base and frivolous… God! Harm I can only imagine the damage that might do to her self-image; her sense of self-worth. At the same time, we cannot lie to her about it. If we do, and she finds out the truth later in life, it will do no less damage. Instead of needing to know how her own mother could choose to do that to her, she'll question how the two people she trusts most could deceive her. Either situation could be disastrous for her." Mac sighs again in disgust. "Harm, I'm so ready for this to be over with. Pamela Jensen is a good woman and she's done the best she can for Laura, but I'm so ready to get the Department of Child and Family Services out of our lives. Out of Laura's life. Not to mention the fact that I don't trust Casey in the least. She acquiesced much too easily. It's got me itchy, and I don't like it one little bit. I feel I am waiting for something bad to happen. I was finally starting to get use to not waiting for something bad to happen."

"She can't do anything. She's in jail… Remember?"

"She's not going to be in jail forever Harm… Not short of having her committed. I don't think even you could sell that to a jury. She's not insane… She just doesn't care. Last time I checked, no matter how disgusting it may be, you can't lock people up for unrepentant apathy."

"No, but it won't do you any good to obsess over it either Sarah."

"I know, I'm just not sure what else to do with myself. I feel like I'm watching the storm clouds gather."

"Let's just wait for Laura's court date to come up. In the meantime, ignore the storm clouds, focus on your recovery. Let's do what we can to keep Skates and Harriett in fighting form, keep our upcoming plans with our godchildren, and take it one day at a time. If your sister decides to make an ass of herself, more so than she already has, we'll deal with it when we have to. There is no sense worrying about, and making yourself crazy over, what hasn't happened yet. Do that, and when something does happen, you won't be in any shape to deal with it."

She smiles. "Know what?"

"Hmm…"

"Sometimes… It's really annoying how smart you are."

"And it's impressive how much you worry… But if you don't learn how to take a break from it, you're going to turn all our kids in to safe little neurotics who fret and worry at the drop of a hat."

She covers her face with her own hands and laughs derisively. "Oh God, I am, aren't I?"

He nods. "We may not be in great place right now, but we aren't in a horrible place either. Just try enjoying it for what it is. I'm okay. You're okay. And most importantly of all, all of our kids are okay."


	119. Chapter 119: Family

**Chapter 119: Family**

* * *

Tuesday, July 8, 2008

JLSO

San Diego California

08: 16 HRS

* * *

Trish Burnett smiles politely at the short, slender, stranger in a class A dress uniform when she passes through the door he's holding open for her. "Thank you Major."

"My pleasure Ma'am. Good day."

"She nods. "You too."

She heads for the elevator bank that will take her upstairs. She hadn't paid close enough attention to his insignia, but she muses purely on instinct. "Slight of stature, light on his feet, and Marine-green to the core. Probably Recon."

When she steps off the elevator she takes in her surroundings with a single sweeping glance. It's not her first time here, but she's still can't help but think… These places never change. If you've seen one military office building you've seen them all."

She makes her way down a short corridor until she pushes through the next set of glass doors where a female naval lieutenant in summer whites politely slides past her offering her a perfunctory smile as she quick-steps away with purpose in her stride.

Before Trish can reach her official destination a familiar female voice calls, "Headed my way?"

She glances over her shoulder with a smile for her daughter-in-law. "I was."

"It's in my office. Thanks for stopping by; you're a lifesaver!"

Trish waits for, and then, falls into step with the younger woman. "It's no trouble."

Mac laughs doubtfully. "Thanks for that too."

Another set of glass doors and Trish and her companion step into the lively bullpen that surrounds Mac's inner office. "I don't know what you mean, darling."

While keeping her spine straight and her shoulders square, Mac smiles and permits the smallest glimmer of mirth to rise to the surface in her dark eyes. "If you're to be believed, then it's no trouble at all when I pick up the phone and ask for last minute favors. You never seem to mind, though I'm sure it has to be inconvenient… At least once in a while."

Trish shrugs. "You're busy. If I can help, I'm glad to do it." She chuckles and teases lightheartedly, "I promise… if you start becoming a horribly inconvenient drudge… I will let you..."

When they pass by a small conference room and the lawyers inside can be heard, clearly in the midst of a boisterous discussion even through the closed doors, Mac holds up her right index finger silently asking Trish for a moment's patience. "I'll hold you to that." She says discreetly before pushing the doors open.

For a long moment Mac remains silent. She simply stands in the opened doorway with her hands clasped behind her back; quietly observing two of her junior officers without their knowledge.

From her place on the other side of the threshold, Trish can see no one else but Mac, but she hears a young woman ask, with almost comic incredulity, "You aren't serious?"

A male voice replies. "Hey, it could work." And, even though Trish does not know who is speaking, she can clearly hear the smile on his face.

"Oh sure, Right! Go ahead, try that. I dare you!" The woman taunts. "Judge Barlow will laugh you right out of her courtroom. You'll be lucky if you don't spend the night in the brig! And, I'm telling you right now… If I'm found guilty by association, if she tars me with the same brush… I will spike that orange soda you're always sucking down with Draino!"

As the man inside the room begins to laugh, Trish bites her lower lip to keep from doing the same while Mac finally makes her presence known by loudly clearing her throat. "Ahem…"

"Ma'am! Colonel!" Trish can hear wooden chair legs scraping against the floor and she's left with no doubt that the squabbling duo in the conference room have come to their feet; instantly snapping to attention.

"What's going on in here?" Mac quietly demands with deliberate patience.

Unaware just how loud they have gotten until this precise moment, the woman immediately apologizes. "Sorry Colonel." While her cohort offers hopefully, "Uh... We were just discussing case strategy, Ma'am."

Mac nods slowly. "Yes, you were…with feeling."

Finally contrite, the unseen man answers. "We're sorry about that Colonel Mackenzie. We'll take it down a notch or two."

"Yes, you will. Do I really have to remind you two that, for this case, you're supposed to be on the same side."

"Of course not Ma'am... We know that." They answer one after the other.

"Well, in that case, I'll just remind both of you that your job is to defend your client to the best of your ability... Your job is not to render your co-council, not to mention everybody else in this office, hard of hearing."

"Yes Ma'am." They answer in unison.

Mac turns on her heel and declares, as she closes the conference room door once more."Carry on people." She makes her way across the bullpen, reserving further comment, until after she ushers Trish into the privacy of her office and closes the door securely behind the two of them. With one hand still on the doorknob, she slumps momentarily against the door while she shakes her head and rolls her eyes; offering drolly, "Lawyers!"

Trish studies her with knowing eyes for a split second before wagering a guess; "Two of your best?"

Mac raises an eyebrow in astonishment. "Good lord, Trish, how could you possibly tell?"

"They're obviously passionate. And, command presence aside, you're silently laughing at them… as opposed to hauling them before a firing squad."

"You'd never know it just by listening to them, but they've actually got impressive trial records." Mac steps away from the door and moves to the seat behind her desk. She opens a drawer and removes a manila envelope with Laura's full name scrawled across the front of it in barely legible red magic marker, and then passes it across the desk to Trish, who only glances at it before tucking it under an arm as Mac continues," And I'm laughing at them because… Sometimes… they remind me of another pair of lawyers."

"Bet I can guess who. God help Chegwidden. You two must driven him half-mad."

For a single instant Mac smiles; her eyes alight with memories before she firmly objects, "Hey... You never got to watch us work with each other!"

Trish's sudden burst of quiet laughter is musical. "No, I didn't. But I've had a front row seat for almost a year now, watching the two of you be married to one another."

Mac tips her head to one side and shrugs agreeably. "Touche... To be fair though, the marriage is calmer... A lot calmer than I thought it would be. Uh, at least, it is most of the time." She clarifies quickly. "Not including this week. This week is just plain crazy."

"So I gather. I thought you were supposed to be off today."

"I was. That was the plan. I swear we made a plan. We usually do. On Sundays we try to plan out the coming week. There's always some flux in the plan, but we've gotten use to handling it, and Laura pretty much goes with the flow. Apparently, if this week is any indication, when you have two more children in residence, you make a plan Sunday night and before sunset on Monday the plan goes up in smoke. We've already had to re-work the plan twice… and this is only Tuesday. But hey... It's good practice, right?"

Trish shimmies her hand side to side in the air. "It's good practice to an extent. Having A.J. and Jimmy here this week will give you some idea of what life is going to be like 5 to 10 years from now. Having the twins here next week might give you an idea what life is going to be like in 2 to 4 years. The older Roberts boys will tell you a lot about what they need, what they want, and how the family's weekly plan needs to change; if it needs to change. The twins may not be able to articulate these things just yet, but they can at least let you know when something isn't working, but they're more likely to tell you these things through behavior than actual speech. What you're forgetting, Mac, is that the two new family members you're expecting this fall won't be able to talk for the first year of life. They won't be able to tell you much of anything beyond the basic necessities of their lives. Before you're a parent, one baby crying sounds remarkably like any other baby crying. After a week or two of listening to your newborns, you'll learn to tell the difference between a cry that says 'I'm hungry, I'm tired, I'm cold, I'm sad, lonely, angry, or hey; somebody please change my diaper.' Beyond that, they won't tell you much of anything for that first year. Until you get to know them, at least a little bit, there won't be any advance warnings about late night fevers, ear infections, or any of the other common reasons that newborns make a mockery of your weekly plan. Having a newborn in the house is not the same as having a young child; it's not even the same as having a toddler underfoot. Having two newborns at the same time is outside my wheelhouse, but I suspect it will turn out to be a lot like having twins… I suppose Jenny and Nicky can supply you with a multitude of tips and plenty of practice in that department. And what they aren't able to tell you, I'm quite sure that Harriett and Bud can… and will. I only had Harm. He was enough. I cannot begin to imagine what it would've been like if there had been two of him.

Mac laughs as her eyes go wide at the thought alone. "Trish, I thank God you didn't have two of him; or even just two that look like him. Years ago, confronted with the prospect of more than one Harmon Rabb, Jr. I punched his impostor in the face. Despite all visual evidence to the contrary, I knew he wasn't Harm; even so, as my fist connected with his face, I still sent up a silent prayer. 'Please, please, please don't let me be wrong about this!' If he literally had a living, breathing, doppelganger walking around... My mind might have imploded that day.

When Trish squints curiously, Mac rolls her eyes. "Opps, apparently I've outted another one of his secrets. He didn't tell you about Clark Palmer?"

Trish cocks her head to one side and quickly searches her storehouse of memories. "I vaguely remember the name. Someone Harm said was hassling him."

Mac clicks her tongue against the inside of her cheek. "Hasseling him?" She shakes her head. "That's all he said?"

"I'm acutely aware that I often get the light version of the story; especially if my son is in some kind of trouble. He thinks he's protecting me; at least that's what he calls himself doing."

"Trish, if Harm told you Palmer was hassling him, you didn't get the light version. You got the anorexic version."

Trish frowns as worry clouds her normally bright eyes. Although she gives her daughter-in-law an inquiring look, she asks no questions. Choosing instead to remain silent, she waits expectantly for Mac to fill in the gaps for her.

"Clark Palmer was a sociopath who crossed paths with Harm and I in the course of our duties. He fixated on Harm; became obsessed. More than once, he reared his ugly head and inserted himself into our lives. Well, Harm's life… "

Trish nods her head and gestures with her hands as she says, "And yours by extension… Go on, please."

Mac hesitates for a moment, trying to decide how much to say, and what, if anything, to leave out. She watches Trish watch her as she makes up her mind. Ultimately deciding that it's all water under the bridge now, she opts for a -not quite- full disclosure; choosing only to leave out the most sensitive details of Palmer's hideous homicidal plan and, of course, the information pertaining to the explosive device. All these years later, there's no point in telling her that her son was found in the immediate vicinity of a bomb.

Instead, she starts with, "Palmer got some sort of perverse pleasure out of manipulating Harm. Looking back, it appeared as though he perceived Harm as some sort of self-proclaimed golden boy and then took an obscene amount of joy in trying to knock Harm off a pedestal he's not on. Sure, Harm's occasionally guilty of arrogance… But he's not narcissistic. I think that was Palmer projecting his own fears and dislikes about himself onto Harm."

Mac pauses for a deep breath before going any further, and Trish nods encouragement and forces herself to wait patiently.

"At any rate, unbeknownst to any of us who worked with Harm, Palmer hatched a plan to commit murder in open court and have your son take the fall for it. He gained entry into Harm's loft apartment in DC under false pretenses. He claimed to be a deliveryman of some sort. Then, he held Harm captive for several hours while he, with the aid of some wickedly impressive prosthetics and makeup, stole Harm's identity. Palmer, quite literally, borrowed Harm's face. They were also of similar stature and body type, so he was able to pass himself off as Harm for awhile. He prepared for his day while Harm was forced to watch; restrained, completely unable to stop him. Palmer showered in his bathroom, used his toiletries, commandeered his car, and other personal items, wore his clothes... Even his aftershave. When he arrived at HQ masquerading as Harm, the aftershave and a slight difference in height were probably the first things that set my subconscious to whispering. My internal alarm bells did not toll loudly right away. Awareness crept up on me slowly, because I wasn't really paying attention. I was busy, and irritated with him for being late. What my subconscious knew, and what my eyes saw, were at odds with one another. Despite the fact that I found myself squinting at him, on more than one occasion, in confusion; I couldn't put my finger on the exact cause for my discomfort. Not one of the nagging doubts, by itself was enough to raise a red flag. I felt like I was being haunted. I told myself that I was imagining things. There was nothing wrong with his smile. It wasn't somehow different, and It was not possible for a man to noticeably shrink an inch and a half in height overnight. But you know the way that the same fragrance will smell differently depending on who wears it because of body chemistry?"

Mac continues even before Trish nods. "It was only a subtle difference Trish, almost imperceptible, but Harm's aftershave didn't smell exactly the same when worn by Palmer. He also claimed to have Laryngitis, so he walked around whispering hoarsely. We all sound remarkably similar to the human ear when whispering; so the difference in their voices wasn't a dead giveaway. He insulted me, then brazenly hit on me; flirted with me."

Mac chuckles derisively in response to Trish's raised eyebrow. "Not that Harm has ever been above any of that, but Palmer lacked his delivery… or he lacked the very essence of Harm… That undefinable quality he has that makes a woman instantly smile and forgive him when she experiences the sudden urge to slap his face. Yes, Harm occasionally irritated me… Even made me angry from time to time when he'd did these things. But Harm has never made me feel unclean. Palmer's manner wasn't overtly vulgar. He was more subtle than that, and yet, he still made me want to shower in boiling water and scrub myself raw with a Brillo pad. Still, as unsettled as I felt, the final alarm didn't sound until we were in court. Trish, I've seen your son work a courtroom more times than I can tell you. He puts on a show, and I have been privileged enough to enjoy being a captive member of his audience. I know his playbook backward, forward, sideways, diagonally, upside down, and inside out. Palmer couldn't touch him; not in a courtroom. I was his co-council, and I couldn't figure out what the hell was wrong with him. He was mad at me for trying to rein him in. He walked over to the table, looked me in the eye… called me Sarah… And told me to… Sit down… And shut up!"

The penny finally dropped. The trumpet bmlast finally sounded. My mind finally stopped resisting; wrestling with what my eyes saw, and my subconscious finally yelled loud enough to be heard over all of my reasonable doubts. "I don't have a clue what's happening here, and I don't know who the hell that is... but that is not Flyboy!"

Mac shakes her head at the memory. "By the time I recovered from the initial shock of that one mind-numbing realization, all hell had broken loose inside that courtroom. I decided to swing first and ask questions later."

She chuckles involuntarily and then offers, with a note of apology, in her voice. "It's not funny. I know. But thank God Bud Roberts is smarter than all of us. We all know Harm has a certain flair for showing up just in the nick of time. Bud knew that, in spite of that, Harm wouldn't just not show up. He wouldn't just not call on the day of such a big court case. Poor Bud! He had to go out in rain and break into Harm's apartment. About the time he was doing that, I was sitting in the courtroom watching Palmer make a mockery of all Harm's skill and talent.

As usual, and with Bud at his side, he showed up just in time... Just in time to get his clock cleaned by Palmer who was still in disguise."

Mac's face mirrors the discomfort she feels inside. "I'm sure that was a bizarre experience for him; to say the least. We put a stop to Palmer's plans, but not before some damage was done. When Harm came to, he was lying on the floor with his head in my lap and I was pinching his face. I remember, he squinted up at me and then he smiled. He complained, and told me to let go of him. I told him, I was just trying to make sure that he was himself… One Harmon Rabb in my life was enough!"

"Good heavens, Mac! That sounds harrowing." Trish rubs her own arms and deliberately gives herself a shake as if trying to rid herself of some dark unholy garment.

"It's not an experience I can recommend. Palmer's gone now. Has been for a long time. He can't inflict his personal brand of terror on anyone else. Still, Harm took his time moving beyond the events of that day... Just when he was about to get clear... Jordan Parker died."

Trish squints in confusion, " I remember her. That is to say, I remember Harm mentioning her; a former girlfriend?

Mac nods quietly. "She was a nice woman."

"What did she have to do with Clark Palmer?"

"Nothing… Except that they were dating when Palmer was gunning for Harm. Harm gave her a weapon. Just so she'd have a means to protect herself if Palmer showed up again. The relationship ended. They broke up, and sometime later one of Jordan's patients... A man with some severe mental health issues… Well, let's just say of the two, he turned out to be the more stable member of his marriage. His delusional wife took it into her head the Jordan was the other woman. Jordan tried to defend herself but she was killed with the gun that Harm had given her for protection against Palmer. For a time, Harm was suspected of committing her murder. She was his ex-girlfriend; killed by his weapon. To anyone who didn't know him, and maybe to some who did know him, it looked bad. Harm wasn't responsible, but of course, Harm being Harm; he held himself accountable anyway.

"He did tell me she died; that she was killed. He did not tell me the rest... Just that she was gone. I knew there was more to the story. At that time, I didn't want to push him. I can see now; I should have. I left it alone because he was hurting. I never got the sense that he was in love with her, but when she died, I suddenly realized that he may have cared more than I initially perceived... Unless it was his own misguided sense of guilt that deepened his grief."

Mac nods. "I don't think the relationship was ever truly one sided; maybe just a little bit lopsided. They both cared for each other. I suspect Jordan might have had deeper feelings… or somewhat different feelings… than he did. I got the impression she wanted more, I also got the impression she knew she wasn't going to get more." Mac shakes her head again as the conversation calls forth a distant memory. "She told me once that Harm would only be a part of her life until I decided I wanted him for myself. Or words to that effect, I remember laughing at her… Telling her she was way off base."

Mac pauses as dry laughter dies in her throat before it is fully expelled. "When I think about all the times we must have told that lie… To ourselves, to each other, to everyone else… No wonder we were, very nearly, always at each other's throats; or at the very least, supremely irritated with one another. That's also why our relationship is usually calmer than it was back then."

Still stunned by all she's learned, Trish muses as much to herself as Mac. "The truth shall set you free."

Mac nods. "Frequently annoying, but true. What were we talking about before we segued into Frick &amp; Frack; the early years?"

"Frick &amp; Frack 2.0... and all the wonderfully maddening things they are going to do to your weekly plans and schedules.

"Ah yes... I was supposed to take Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday off this week. Giving Wednesday Thursday and Friday to Harm. That way, we could all be together at the same time for at least one day during the week. The plan is to take all three kids, Laura, A.J., and Jimmy to the San Diego zoo. You and Frank took her to visit the aquarium. Now she wants to go see all the other animals. The ones that don't live in the ocean. We want to make a day of it, and even though it's summer, I can't help but think that Wednesday will still be less crowded than Saturday."

"Probably true. There will be fewer parents off work and available to take their children to the zoo tomorrow than Saturday."

"My thoughts exactly." Mac concurs. With our addresses on opposite sides of the continent, we don't get to see our godchildren nearly as much as we'd like. We split the week so we can each still put time in our offices, one of us will always be with the children. Despite our best efforts to coordinate everything just right, Harm found out yesterday that he will have to go into his office on Thursday. He has no choice. So, we swapped my Tuesday with his Thursday. Then, yesterday afternoon, despite being told not to, Jimmy fed Candy about half of a very large box of chocolate covered almonds. I don't believe he meant any real harm. I think he just thought he was being nice to the dog. When we asked to know why he disobeyed us, he replied, "You said don't give her sweets. You didn't say don't give her nuts." Mac shrugs. "Maybe in his mind the two really did fall into separate categories, but if they did, I doubt they do anymore. Candy only threw up once, but when we realized she was sick and dropped everything to take her to the vet; I think it scared him. I know it scared him when Laura started crying while Candy was being examined. Because we took Candy to the vet, we pushed Laura's Monday therapy appointment to today. Which is why we need your help. Candy is fine. Dr. Dutton said to cut back on her dog food for a few days and supplement the difference with scrambled eggs and yogurt." Mac chuckles conspiratorially. "I think, eventually, Laura will even get over being mad at Jimmy… but it may not happen until long after he goes home. After we got home yesterday evening, Laura demanded that he hand over the rest of his almonds covered in dog poison. When he did, she retrieved one of her step stools and promptly washed them down the garbage disposal. She told Jimmy that if he ever fed her dog again, next time, she'd put him in the garbage disposal! Since then, Jimmy stays at least 10 foot away from Laura and Candy at all times. Harm tried to tell her that she wasn't being very nice; that Jimmy didn't mean to hurt Candy. He encouraged Jimmy to apologize. Jimmy said he didn't mean to, but he wasn't going to apologize either, not if Laura was going to be mad at him and chop him into little tiny pieces. This irritated Laura even more and she groaned aloud and yelled at him. 'I said if you do it again; don't you listen!" Harm tried again to guide her in a more appropriate direction. She sighed and told him, "I'd rather just go to my room... and she did!" Mac finishes; chuckling at the memory of the previous day's events.

Trish bites down on her lower lip trying, without any success, to stifle the laughter that bubbles out of her throat. "Poor Jimmy, poor Laura... poor Candy! I bet when she stomped off, sending herself to her room, she took her dog with her."

"You better believe it! She won't let Candy out of her sight; not even for a second. Normally, if the dog is feeling bad, she wants her own little bit of space. Either she's feeling better already, or she's picking up on, and responding to, the discord between Laura and Jimmy. She's hovering too closely. Laura has tripped over her twice in the last 12 hours. I can only hope she doesn't seriously bruise herself just in time for the social worker to show up."

"If an abundance of bruises do show up, it's probable they're not all from tripping over the dog. Last weekend when she stayed with us while you and Harm went to get the boys, Frank rented two Disney movies for her; something called Lilo &amp; Stitch, and the second one was titled Stitch has a Glitch. She loved them; watched them both twice in two days."

Trish pauses long enough for Mac to raise a curious eyebrow. Assuming that, like her, Mac is probably more familiar with Disney movies that were popular 35 years ago, as opposed to the more recent ones, she waits for an encouraging nod before explaining further. "I'm guessing she identifies a great deal with the main character in the movies. Lilo is a seven-year-old Polynesian orphan who lives with her older sister, who is trying to maintain custody of the girl after the death of their parents. Lilo is highly intelligent, very precocious, and lonely. She and her older sister, Nani, are struggling with the shift in their relationship. Once sisters, they now find themselves to be more like parent and child. Nani is probably in her late teens or early twenties, but she's trying hard to take care of Lilo. She takes her sister to a pet shelter and the girl adopts what they assume is a very strange looking dog that Lilo promptly names Stitch, but Stitch isn't a dog. He's really the creation of a mad scientist alien from another planet. He's escapes captivity, and runs away to Earth when he realizes that he is an illegal creation that had to be destroyed. Only, Stitch was created and hardwired for the sole purpose of destroying things. Lilo recognizes that he's a troublemaker, but she befriends him anyway. She spends much of the two movies monitoring what she calls his 'badness level' and trying to get him to be good. Meanwhile, he wreaks havoc it in their lives and gets them into all kinds of trouble with Lilo's caseworker, Mr. Bubbles; who looks like a bouncer for some inner-city biker bar. Besides Stitch, Lilo has two passions in life; one for all things Elvis, and one for hula dancing. After a weekend spent watching both movies, Laura announced she wanted to try hula dancing for herself. I know she fell down at least half a dozen times Sunday afternoon; but the kid wouldn't quit."

Smiling, Mac comes to her feet. "Well, at least that explains a few things. Come on, I'll walk you back out. After that, I've got to get back to work so I can get out of here at a decent time this afternoon."

Trish nods and follows her to lead. Only once they are clear of the bullpen does she ask, "What do her recent movie viewing habits clarify for you."

"Sunday night, while Harm stayed with the boys, Laura and I went to the grocery store. On the way home, we stopped by to check on Skates. She's finally getting over her cold. Which makes my doctor very happy. They don't like for expectant mothers to get colds… Turns out they dislike it a whole lot more when the woman in question is acting as a surrogate. Anyway, Laura climbed up on the couch right beside Skates, kissed her belly, and started chattering away; talking to the baby the way she does. She carries on entire one - sided conversations talking to her unborn cousin as if they are old confidants. Sunday, she announced, "Guess what, baby!" This week I learned how to say the word family in four different languages. She rattled the word off in Spanish, Russian, Farsi, and finally in, what I can only assume, was Hawaiian… Ohana."

Trish nods as their walk and they each repeat the movies' mantra in quiet unison. "Ohana means family…and family means nobody gets left behind."

Pleased, Mac nods. "I wondered where she'd picked that up. I can see where she would draw parallels between herself and Lilo, or maybe even herself and Stitch, just from what you've told me. She wants the adoption to go through, but she's still a bit skittish about it. I think she's still half-expects something to change. Like part of her is waiting for the rug that is going to be yanked out from under her feet. Also, Stitch is some bizarre alien creation who clearly found his family. Given that these are Disney movies, I don't need to watch them to figure that much out… And our family is currently participating in one bizarre, yet beautiful, biological experiment. Give Frank a big kiss and a hug from me. Tell him I said thank you for his choice of movies. If they help her process even a fraction of what going on, then I'm grateful beyond words Trish. If Laura gets a few minor bruises courtesy of ideas she picked up from those movies, it'll be a small price; one well worth paying. A few months ago, I bought her a hula hoop. I didn't think she could manage it, but she begged for it. I didn't have the heart to discourage her. Even the thought of doing that felt wrong. She played with it for a few weeks. After that, it was relegated to the back of her closet. Charlie has given her permission for water therapy. She likes to walk in the ocean. Over The last few days I've observed her out in the water attempting awkward looking gyrations. She topples over every time. Her head goes under, but then she regains her footing, pops back up, and starts over again. I thought maybe she was thinking about taking another run at the hula hoop; maybe practicing the hip movement out in the water where it's safe. It doesn't hurt if she misses a step and falls. Which is good, because she falls every single time."

Smiling, Trish shakes her head. "She's unsinkable… How are things going with the adoption process?"

Mac sighs as they step onto the elevator. "Right now we're in hurry-up-and-wait mode. We're waiting for our next hearing date. But, we've got plenty to do to keep us busy while we wait. When my elderly landlord left me, what used to be her quaint little cottage on the beach, there was less paperwork involved. In fact, if you add up the paperwork on everything I'm responsible for, I don't think all the paperwork combined equals half the amount of paperwork necessary to adopt a kid. But then again, I suppose that's the way it should be, after all, nothing else that I'm personally responsible for breathes… At least not yet anyway."

"It won't be long now. You've got A.J. and Jimmy this week. Jenny and Nicky next week. Laura's adoption. Plus, school starts again soon. You'll need to take her shopping. You're going to be busy. Maybe even so busy you forget to watch the calendar pages turn. The next three months will be gone, and you and Harm will be up at 3:00 AM juggling baby bottles, diapers and pacifiers."

"The thought of being awake at 0300 has never sounded better."

As they step out of the elevator and cross the lobby to the main exit, Trish laughs. "Trust me darling, it will lose its appeal rather quickly. Now, what's in this envelope I came to get."

Laughing at herself as well, Mac nods. "I know that. I'm not entirely delusional. Right now, I don't much care though. I'm sure, if they take after me, after about a week of what my mother referred to as my nocturnal howling, I'll feel differently about it… The contents of the envelope are meant for Charlie when you take Laura to therapy this afternoon. Sorry about that, I meant to leave it at the house for you. Somehow, it wound up in my briefcase. Harm's going to stay home with the boys. Something tells me their presence would be disruptive, even counterproductive, were they to attend one of Laura's therapy sessions.

"I don't doubt that at all." Trish concurs as they step out into the parking lot.

"Last week Charlie ordered an MRI for Laura's leg. She's had one before." Mac gestures toward the envelope. "When she was four. She didn't see Charlie back then. He asked if I could get a copy of the old one, which was no easy feat. She had a different pediatrician back then too. My sister's not the best record keeper. Tracking the man down was not easy. Charlie wants to compare that MRI to the more recent one. Laura has gotten considerably stronger since her return to therapy, but he says that doesn't necessarily mean that everything is better. She's tolerating the changes well. He wants a better idea of what comes next for her with regard to her therapy sessions. Tell him he can keep that if he wants to. I've already made a copy for Laura's adoption file; what Judge Dubose called the Book of Laura. Only now, it has a whole new volume. I hope we draw him for the next family court hearing. It's likely, but not an absolute guarantee. It would just make things easier, he's already familiar with Laura's case, and she's looking forward to the possibility of to seeing him again."


End file.
